


there's a million things that i could say to you

by shrack



Series: million verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Canon is a Suggestion, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Not Kurt Friendly, Slow Burn, Suicide mention, Time Is Fake, im not gonna tag them but popular warblers and sebastians family are in it, look he's just my emotional support bastard okay, same goes with the NY new directions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrack/pseuds/shrack
Summary: "How often do you talk?"Often. Sebastian messed things up between him and Blaine, no thanks to the slushie incident. He hopes he can move forward from this, ideally with Blaine still willing to talk to him. And he does, in time.Or, a long outline of how Sebastian yearns, and a friendship rebuilds itself.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Series: million verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877104
Comments: 15
Kudos: 100





	there's a million things that i could say to you

**Author's Note:**

> A few tidying up notes before we start. First, I’m ignoring the Finn blackmail storyline in season 3 and the steroids plotline in season 4 altogether. With the steroids one, I tweaked it so the Warblers and New Directions don’t go up against each other until Regionals, and let’s just pretend the Warblers setlist was the Sectionals one but Sebastian sings both. Second, Blaine and Kurt stay broken up after the engagement falls through, because we all know that that’s what their relationship needed. Third, pretty much the back half of season five and all of season six doesn’t exist. I basically just picked at the plotlines and took the ones that make the most sense for, you know, high schoolers, or ones I simply wanted to use. Glee, come on, you’re just making things difficult for me at this point. Finally, I seem to have written this more modern than you know, 2013, but honestly the years don’t matter all that much. 
> 
> TLDR: canon is a suggestion, and Sebastian has a consciousness. There are vague references to anxiety and their effects, as well as mentions of suicide around the Karofsky plotline.

Sebastian understands his consequences, but he really fucking wishes it had ended up differently. He wishes Blaine hadn’t decided to be Superman and jump in front of the slushie meant for Kurt. He wishes he and the other Warblers hadn’t put rock salt in the slushie, to make it stain worse, or whatever the goal was there. He wishes he had never taken Blaine’s trust for granted, lie, and say they were thinking of Michael Jackson for Regionals. He wishes, even before all of this unfolded, that he never dared to open himself up to Blaine Anderson.

So now, he’s stuck. He paces the small walkway of empty space in his dorm, chewing on the side of one of his nails, desperately darting a glance at his phone every moment to see if there are any updates on Blaine’s status from the Warbler group chat, or whichever New Directions member feels like sending him an empty threat. His chest feels tight, like his ribcage is trapping his lungs, making every breath he takes harder and harder. He drops his hand from his mouth and tries to shake the stress out, blinks up at the ceiling and resists the urge to shout or, cry or, something. He doesn’t know.

It started...a few months earlier. Nick had gotten his first solo, and they had just gone over “Uptown Girl” with a fine-tooth comb all week, so naturally it was the finale to their rehearsal that Friday. In waltzes the man, the myth, the Blaine Anderson, in an outfit that looks suspiciously like pajamas. Sebastian remembers trying to piece it all together.

The Warblers talked his ear off about Blaine when he first joined the group. He was incredible, one of the only out gay guys in the school. He was a role model, a natural-born leader, with an incredible vocal range and an even more incredible disposition. And Sebastian has to admit, he’s attractive as all hell. He’s watched the videos of previous performances, and while Katy Perry and P!nk aren’t exactly “out there” pulls, he understands the hype a bit. 

He, naturally, has to stir the pot. He even surprises himself when he takes Blaine by the hand to pull him up to join the number. Nick and the others are genuinely thrilled that Blaine is in their presence, a mix of awe that he even remembers their names and happiness that their best, missing friend is back in town. Sebastian thought they kept in touch. Why did he leave all those months ago?

“Blaine Anderson,” he says, holding his hand out for a handshake, “Sebastian Smythe.”

He remembers picking his brain for a good twenty minutes before he had to run to lacrosse. There’s something...fascinating about Blaine Anderson, something that doesn’t click with the mental image that he's become familiar with. This Blaine— _this_ Blaine, the one sitting in front of him, gaping at every passing compliment or hopeful question about his reasons for leaving— _he_ was people’s sounding board for their problems? This Blaine is a lost puppy, stammering through life without so much as a song and a prayer. He gets his number from David that night, and the rest is history.

Sebastian’s phone buzzes on his bed, and he pounces for it. The lack of sleep is wearing him thin—it’s some random notification from Twitter that he doesn’t care for at all. How many days has it been, two? Three? There’s no way Blaine has been fucking _unconcious_ for three days. Obviously they’re using this as leverage. It’s a stupid way to get under his skin, to make guilt take him over, and...fuck them if they think he’s going to break because of this. 

_Think, Sebastian._ There has to be another reason why this is so stressful for you. (Assault charges aside. Obviously.)

Blaine, as it turns out, seemed to be dying to talk to somebody about the New Directions drama. And drama it was—Sebastian only had seen the tip of the iceberg when scouring the blogs for videos of Rachel and Finn’s Nationals-losing kiss, or something called “The Muckraker” to hear all the petty drama get attached to some names. Jacob Ben-Israel may be a terrible person, but even Sebastian can’t deny that there was something deliciously enticing about hearing only the worst about people he knew tangentially.

Sebastian always kind of assumed that the other Warblers were best friends with Blaine. That they kept up with him, he kept up with them. But really, once he asked, he realized that Blaine did exactly what Kurt had done the year before—he simply left, and nobody heard much afterward. It didn’t take long for Sebastian to piece together the great Anderson Mystery puzzle, and frankly it only confused and concerned him more. Was Kurt not _letting_ Blaine talk to the Warblers anymore? Were the entire New Directions barring it? 

One thing was for sure, and that was Blaine Anderson left Dalton because Kurt manipulated him into it.

And yeah, manipulated is a strong word. But Sebastian never liked Kurt, Blaine-unrelated reasons included, and putting it together just made sense. Specifically, there was a phone call.

“So Kurt and I sang _Perfect_ to really set the tone and make her know that we’re there for her in all of this. It’s our car song.”

Sebastian, despite his head reeling from the speed and intensity with which Blaine answered the simple question ‘How was your day?’, knew he had to put up niceties. “And how is Kurt doing with all of this?”

Blaine sighed heavily on the other end, noises implying that he was sitting down on the couch as he did so. “I don’t know. I don’t like to pry too much about that kind of thing.”

Wasn’t that what relationships were about? Emotional vulnerability and all that jazz?

“And besides. If he weren’t okay...he would tell me. We’re good like that.”

“Do _you_ keep secrets, Killer?” Sebastian knew the answer, but he’d never been one to just leave these kinds of things unspoken. Better to get it out there and deal with it later, he supposed.

Blaine sighed, like he knew exactly what Sebastian was doing. They had only been regularly chatting for a few weeks, then, and yet somehow Blaine could predict him. To a degree. “Sebastian, come on. You know he’d flip if we knew we were friends.”

Friends. Friends don’t steal ideas. Friends don’t nearly blind each other. He remembers the force with which Blaine shoved him during their song fight, the raw, plain and clear _hurt_ on his face for the first time that entire night. There wasn’t any tacky-leather-jacket-inspired “anger”, no attempt at putting on a brave face for once. Sebastian nearly missed his cues afterward, a heavy, sinking feeling deep in his chest.

And then he hears the splash. And then the thud. And the _screaming._ Sebastian is torn out of it again by another notification, this time an actual text from Santana.

 **Santana Lopez:** _i’m coming over at lunch tomorrow, baby face. neutral ground. bring your weird posse._

If she’s willing to...whatever, _fight_ them for Blaine’s honor, then Blaine can’t be that bad off. The text doesn’t relieve any of the tension in his body, but he’s the captain, and he has a role to play. He sends the appropriate text to the Warbler group chat:

 **Sebastian Smythe:** _Santana’s coming to discuss Blaine tomorrow at lunch. Orchestra room._

and he grabs his jacket off the back of his door.

It’s a cool night, and Sebastian draws his shoulders tight as he walks down the sidewalk and toward the fields in the back of the school. His heart is trapped in his throat and he breathes out to try and shake it loose. _Your brain enters fight or flight mode, and overthinks_ , he hears his therapist say, when he was fourteen and forced out of the closet in front of the student body by a vengeful friend, _so if you go for a walk, you could trick your brain into thinking you’re fleeing._

He stumbled upon this place on one of his walks, seemingly a spot for Dalton kids who were trying to rebel against authority to smoke or ditch class. Sebastian pulls his phone out for the flashlight as he approaches the edge of the forest near the football field, even though he doesn’t need it to know where the roots are. The space isn’t more than a few square feet between trees, neatly hidden by the foliage, but somehow with a perfect view of the sky. Closeby, a small river gurgles, a frog croaks. It only took twenty minutes, but it’s a good way to keep Sebastian’s mind off of his own brain, focus on what’s real, physical, _tangible_. 

Sebastian doesn’t know what fighting Santana is going to look like, but he’s willing to bet there is singing involved. And since they’ve been arguing over Michael Jackson, one of those songs is probably a safe bet. He sits, and then lays back on the grass, feeling the cold, wet grass soak through his clothes, almost grounding him. He takes a deep breath, exhales for longer. Blaine is fine. Sebastian can figure out what his status is from Santana, tomorrow. There is a cloud gently moving across the gap in the trees where Sebastian is staring.

“Okay, now it’s your turn. Tell me something about yourself, Sebastian.”

Blaine had texted to see if he was awake at one in the morning, once. Sebastian was already making pilgrimage to his spot, opting for the long way around the entire building. It was just one of those nights, Sebastian doesn’t remember why.

“That doesn’t sound very sexy,” he said, and Blaine hummed a laugh on the other end.

“Come on, I just confessed about my weird Cary Grant obsession, you owe me something.”

Sebastian paused for a moment, and the wind must’ve blown or something, because—

“Are you outside?”

Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, just needed some air.”

“It’s,” Blaine said, pulling the phone away from his mouth to check the time, “it’s almost two, are you at least heading back to your room?”

“Honestly? No, it hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Where _are_ you going? Sneaking out to meet some hot new boyfriend of yours?”

So, Sebastian told him. Everything about the small nook in the woods that Sebastian had found shortly after coming to Dalton. He didn’t say that somehow, it reminded him of home, of the secluded home in the East of France where his mother still lives. Or that he found it because he gets anxious sometimes, too anxious to sit still, or to put on his pretty face and push people away. He didn’t say any of these things, and yet, he felt like Blaine knew somehow. His voice was sad when he finally answered. Or it may have just been tired.

“That’s really nice, Sebastian.”

Sebastian smiled down at his feet. “You didn’t know I had it in me, did you?”

He puffs a breath out and up into the sky, and checks his phone when it buzzes next to him, finally. The Warbler group chat is ablaze with plans and schemes and whatnot. He doesn’t read it all, barely scratches the surface, but just replies with an affirmative and puts the conversation to bed.

When he shows up to meet with the Warblers in the choir room before Santana arrives, Nick is wielding yet another slushie in his hands while talking to some of the other Warblers. Sebastian stutters in his walk and rakes his eyes up and down the man in question, before rushing up and towering over him.

“If there is anything, _anything_ in that slushie other than ice and whatever tastes like red, I will have your ass kicked out of Dalton so fast that your rich little mommy won’t even know what hit her.”

Nick flinches a bit, and there’s someone’s arm bracketing Sebastian and pushing him back, and there’s something threatening to shake loose in the back of his mind that he spent all night trying to put back in its place.

“Relax, Sebastian, it’s just a regular slushie. Figured it would be enough to get the New Directions off our backs.”

Sebastian straightens up and slaps the arm away from his chest, smoothing out the front of his blazer. “Fine. We have to go meet Santana anyway.”

He turns to glare at Trent, who cowers slightly under the gaze. “And don’t blow this for us.”

Not long after they arrive, Santana’s barging in and announcing that Blaine may lose an eye. It shakes Sebastian’s composure for a moment, busies himself with folding his arms and looking at the other Warblers to avoid any incriminating eye contact he might make. Santana is a fierce competitor, probably one of the last people on Earth he needs knowing that he does have emotions, specifically guilt. 

Santana could, on the right day, give Sebastian a run for his money. He could honestly imagine that in another world, they'd be friends. There's something intriguing about her—from everything Sebastian knew, she would jump at the chance to betray the New Directions and skitter back to Sue Sylvester. And yet, she's singing her little heart out for Blaine's honor. Probably trying to gain blackmail, so Sebastian honestly surprises himself when he admits the truth to her.

"Rock salt," he says, and bites down hard on his tongue as he walks towards Nick and some freshman, Nick holding the new slushie out for him. "But it's okay."

"How is it okay?"

"It's okay, because there's nothing in this one."

Santana gapes at him, drenched in the sticky sweet ice that makes Sebastian's stomach lurch uneasily. He dismisses himself from the other Warblers quickly, and scrubs his hands raw in the sink.

A day or two passes, and the Warblers get an invitation into McKinley. Their little truce act is touching, really, but Sebastian can’t really bring himself to care. Even the rest of the Warblers don’t see how... _fake_ it all feels. Two weeks ago Blaine was complaining that nobody in the New Directions was listening to him, and now all of a sudden everyone is claiming to be Blaine’s best buddy? For the past few months Sebastian has been on the receiving end of these complaints, and now their performative nonsense is happening right where he can’t see it. The song feels hollow, begging for a truce simply because it’s the “right thing to do” or whatever. His heart rises in his throat when the Warblers ditch him in favor of singing along, but at the end of the day, he’s still the captain.

Or at least until Santana reveals that she recorded his confession. He should’ve expected something tricky from her, but the pit of his stomach drops out and it replaced with a horrible dread. Kurt throws him the hard drive, though, in an act of kindness or pity or _whatever_.

So now, once they’ve all returned to their dorms at Dalton, Sebastian sits, twirling the hard drive between his fingers. He could break it, that would solve all his problems immediately. He could take it to the higher ups of Dalton, and suffer the consequences from there, although that was strictly what the New Directions were avoiding when they returned it. Frustrated, he gets up and shoves it into his pocket.

The dean, surprisingly, doesn’t care. Sebastian doesn’t want to think about why too hard, because he knows he’ll find his father, Curtis Smythe, at the end of the search. When Sebastian explains and places the hard drive on his desk, the older man just smiles politely and says everything’s been taken care of. Sebastian, despite the sick feeling he has in his stomach, smiles back. On his way out, he finds an old text from Blaine.

Sebastian shows up to the house and is greeted by Pam Anderson at the door. He offers to pay the hospital bills. She kindly declines. When she asks if he’s a friend of Blaine’s, he answers, “I used to be.”

•••

If he thinks about it (and he tries not to), Sebastian actually saw Blaine at Dalton before he transferred.

Sebastian moved to the States in the middle of the summer, and it was miserable. The air was hot and sticky, an escape to a body of water was a trek and a half, and he didn't have anyone to spend the long, long days with except his father and his latest girlfriend. But, he supposed it was better he get used to Ohio before school started. Besides, lacrosse started meeting up two weeks before the school year actually started, and that was practically the whole reason he got into Dalton so easily.

The first few days were fine, yet Sebastian found himself itching for more to do. The downtime in his room was poison for his mental health, made him aware of all the places in his body that ached because he got the summer workout later than everybody else. He learned quickly that the lacrosse boys can only scratch so much of his social itch. He was reading some of the flyers on the corkboard at the end of one of the hallways, when a blur of navy and red sweeps by him and down the hallway.

When he looks, someone behind him smacks into his shoulder bag, nearly knocking him off balance. The guy, who he'd shortly come to realize was Trent, was gesturing wildly.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I'm just late to Warbler rehearsal and it's about to start up—"

"Warbler rehearsal?"

"We're Dalton's show choir, I've really got to run, but feel free to come with! Blaine's been arranging something over the summer that we've finally got down."

Trent scurries off, and Sebastian watches him disappear into the crowd of other men trying to hurry down to what Sebastian figures is the choir room, or where they rehearse, or...whatever.

When he gets there, he parks himself among the crowd standing outside the room, giving the Warblers enough room to perform inside. His height gives him a decent advantage, and in the middle of this semicircle stands who Sebastian assumes is the leader. They're too far to hear what they're talking about, but it's very clearly a pep talk, and Sebastian has to admit that the energy of the crowd is infectious. This club seems like something Sebastian can climb his way up, and the sights are nothing to scoff at either. He shamelessly checks out Leader's backside, and makes a note to find out his name later.

And then they perform, and Sebastian gets it. He gets the hype, he gets the way the group is organized, he gets why people are ogling them. The leader looks like he's just always _been_ a Warbler, moving the rest of the guys with a look or a wave. They could step up their dance moves—Sebastian didn't spend years in dance classes to do the step-touch.

The crowd disperses once the song is finished, and a group of eager freshmen float into the room to swarm the lead Warbler. Sebastian hesitates. He doesn't want to get lumped in with these eager-eyed children, he knows he has talent and knows he'd get in without any questions asked. When he moves to adjust his belongings and leave, Leader looks up over the freshmen and at him. Sebastian offers a smirk and a quick nod before heading towards where his next class is. He hopes the teacher understands where he got swept up, but he's thinking about what song to audition with that would get Leader's attention.

When he goes to audition on Friday, Leader is gone. The Warblers seem more than happy to have someone to take the mantle. And that's when he learns about Blaine.

Now when he thinks about it, usually at night when there's nothing to do but try and drift off into unconsciousness, he wonders if Blaine remembers that, too.

•••

If he were being honest, he didn't love that his most social nights were pretending to be twenty-one at local bars. Sebastian just didn't find joy at any Dalton parties—if you could even refer to them as such—and Scandals provided a much nicer energy. But now he's tired. He's tired of men, he's tired of who they remind him of, he's tired of being picky. Jon once told him about a lenient club on the other side of Westerville, and the atmosphere is much more conducive to Sebastian forgetting his own name for the night.

The Mint, ironically, is so hot and damp that Sebastian is glad he ditched the long sleeve in favor of a tank top. A thin fog coats everything in a hazy blur, causing the bright, neon lights to twinkle a bit at their edges. Men lean casually next to women laughing with their friends at the bar. Sebastian's pretty sure his shoes stick slightly to the ground, but he can't bring himself to care. He's here to drink and not think about the consequences.

So he does. He's a couple of beers in when a woman sidles up to him, definitely no older than the legal requirement. In no way is Sebastian going to remember her name, but it seems like the feeling is mutual. They do a shot, and the next thing he knows, they're outside and huddled against someone's car, Sebastian's hands on her hips and her hands on his neck.

And of course, because he can't catch a break, his mind wanders while they kiss. If Sebastian had done something different, could that night at Scandals have gone differently? If they had met a little earlier, would this be their fate? If Sebastian hadn't messed up so colossally, would they still be friends? If they kissed, what would it be like? Sebastian pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, the girl's breath puffing hard against his face.

"We should stop," he mutters, and catches her eye. Surprisingly, she smiles.

"My friend's probably wondering where I am anyway."

Sebastian breathes an incredulous laugh as he pulls back, the metal of the car cold against his back. 

"You’re not cheating on someone with me, are you?" she asks as she pulls out her phone to check on her makeup, effectively missing the bewildered look on Sebastian's face.

"What? No. What?”

She laughs, puts her phone down, and moves toward Sebastian to gesture at his face. "Can I?"

Sebastian nods, dumbfounded, as she gently wipes around his mouth with her thumb and a small smile. "My intuition isn’t great. You’re definitely thinking about someone else, though.”

"That’s not a knock on your abilities," Sebastian clarifies, and the girl rolls her eyes.

"No, I get it. I’ve been there. Sometimes people just need time." She drops her hand and gives a satisfied hum. "See you back in there?"

Sebastian nods again, and watches her go, just like everyone else has gone.

-

Somehow, his father knows the news before he does. The two of them are sitting quietly at the dinner table, as they do every other weekend to assure that Sebastian still sees his family every now and then. Sebastian's fork scrapes on his plate and he grimaces.

"Do you know, um," Curtis starts, clearing his throat, "this kid, David Karofsky?"

"Tangentially. Why?"

His father stammers around the news of Karofsky's suicide attempt. How he'd been outed at his school and practically chased out, his social media littered with nothing but hate. Sebastian's heart drops through his stomach, and his grip tightens on his fork. He'd said some things to Karofsky, _stupid_ , half-drunk things that he would say to anyone who'd try to hit on him when he's in a bad mood at Scandals. Sebastian knows what it's like to get there. To get so low where the only logical next step is something drastic. You don't just move from France to Ohio randomly.

"I just thought you could reach out, since you—" the words get caught in his dad's throat, and when Sebastian forces himself to look up to see if his dad's alright, he's surprised to see Curtis' eyes are shining with unshed tears. "It might be a good idea."

"Yeah. Maybe."

When Sebastian finally dismisses himself from the table, he checks his phone to see a couple of things. One, the Warbler group chat is blowing up about the situation, and the thought of reading through them all makes him sick. Two, a number he doesn't recognize has texted him a strongly worded message about something, and judging by the short preview, it's Rachel Berry. Third, a separate text has come through from Trent, telling him the news personally, for some reason.

Sebastian swipes all the notifications away, and pulls open his conversation with Blaine.

 **Sebastian:** _i know im the last person you want to hear from right now. im so sorry about whats happened. is it possible for us to meet at the lima bean tomorrow? you deserve an in person apology_

Sebastian tosses his phone on his bed and stares at it, gnawing at the side of his thumb. He hates the familiarity of the situation. Maybe he's just doomed to bring bad things wherever he goes, a cursed cloud following his every move. His phone buzzes, and he snatches it up.

 **Blaine:** _That's fine. I'm bringing some friends._

 **Sebastian:** _great_

Sebastian speeds on the way to the Lima Bean. He needs to pump caffeine into himself to brace for whatever impact that is going to come in the form of what he's assuming is the combined wrath of Santana and Kurt. He busies himself with making future plans for the Warblers— _Stand_ by Lenny Kravitz is a legacy song, so that would be a fun one to pull out of the back catalog. He's finishing up some drafted potential songs for their setlist on the sides of his economics homework when he's approached like gangbusters.

Santana’s already lecturing him as she walks up and sits down, but he takes a moment to glance up at Blaine. Despite texting him about the invitation, Sebastian’s still surprised he showed. He’s visibly pissed, they all are, but something about Blaine angry makes his stomach churn anxiously.

“—from one bitch to another. All of this vicious, underhanded crap has got to stop.”

He takes a breath. He knew this was coming, he knew what he did to get here, but it still stings a bit to hear it out loud. “Exactly. That’s why I called you here. First of all, Blaine I am...sorry about your eye.”

“That means nothing to me.”

“Just give me a chance. I have no excuses except a silly prank that got completely out of control.”

He goes on to explain the plan he made with the Warblers late last night. He tries not to watch as Blaine’s face falls from anger into something much more complex that he can’t figure out. He knows the facts of this conversation. He does, however, clench his jaw when Kurt speaks.

“Wait for the punch. You know it’s coming.”

“Not this time. For too long I have treated...everything like a big joke. I’ve said things that I regret for the sake of simply being mean,” he puffs out a breath, looks down to swallow the tightness in his throat. “It’s all fun and games. Until it’s not.”

Kurt walks away in front of Blaine, and Sebastian takes the opportunity to reach for Blaine's arm. He doesn't grab, just places his hand on Blaine's wrist and looks up at him.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

Sebastian can feel eyes on the back of his neck, but Blaine seemingly glances over at his three friends to dismiss them, and he pulls out the chair across the table to sit down. That familiar knot has tied itself firmly in the back of Sebastian's throat, and he focuses on his own hands on the edge of his notebook.

"None of this was supposed to happen," he sighs, index finger flipping through the pages at the top of the notebook. "I really am sorry for what I did to you, Blaine."

"What do you want, Sebastian," Blaine sighs, still twinged with lingering anger.

“I know I can’t justify what I did. Rock salt was— _is_ ridiculous, we all thought it would maybe, I don’t know, make it colder and stain worse or whatever.” He’s rambling, gesturing vaguely with his hands, trying to grasp at the words in his head. Because God knows if he’ll ever get the chance to again. It’s better for both of them if it’s out there.

“And I do want you to know I was ready to take responsibility for it. I handed in the tape that Santana recorded, my family offered to pay for, for _surgery_.” A breath, shuddering around the edges. Before Sebastian can continue, Blaine leans forward a bit.

“Tape? What tape?”

Sebastian looks up, shocked. She’s been all buddy-buddy with Blaine for the past few months, did that really never come up? “When Santana came to Dalton the day after the accident, she had a tape recorder that got me admitting I put rock salt in the slushie. Hummel ended up tossing it to me after they invited us to McKinley as some kind of truce—did they really not tell you about that?”

Blaine shakes his head, and Sebastian searches his face for a moment to suss out some kind of emotion from him in the silence while he thinks.

“I admire your ambition to do good, Sebastian,” Blaine talks slowly, clearly mulling over the words, “but I’m a little confused as to why it took you this long.”

Right. Because it’s been weeks since this all unfolded. Because Sebastian’s been too scared to send Blaine a message after Kurt swiped his boyfriend’s phone to send him a strongly worded paragraph on ever speaking to him. Because Sebastian hurt Blaine, and he’s been building his walls back up, brick by brick, that Blaine accidentally tore down.

"I know what it's like, for Dave, right now," Sebastian admits quietly, smoothing his hands down the paper of the notebook. "No one should ever feel like that, and to think that, that _I_ could've contributed, or made _you_ feel like that—"

Sebastian cuts himself off before anything embarrassing can happen with a shake of his head. Slots his emotions back into the spaces where they belong. He finally gives in and makes eye contact with Blaine, Blaine's looking at him with such unguarded emotion that Sebastian wants to tear his eyes away. He can't.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me today, or tomorrow, or ever. I can’t expect that from you. And I hate that it took me this long to come to terms with all of this, that I still acted stupidly even after what I did. But we were friends once, Blaine, and I regret ever taking advantage of that. Life's too short to do this forever."

Sebastian feels stupid. Blaine is sitting there quietly, hazel eyes flitting back and forth between Sebastian's, something sad and unreadable on his face. Despite everything in Sebastian's body screaming at him to backtrack, or push Blaine away, he doesn't move.

"I believe you," Blaine finally says, a small, sympathetic smile gracing his lips, "I'm sorry you ever felt that way, Sebastian."

It takes Sebastian a moment to remember what he said, and he waves a hand dismissively despite the creeping anxiety settling in his stomach. "It's in the past."

Blaine hesitates for a moment before resting a hand on top of one of Sebastian’s. The moment is brief, and the warmth from the other’s hand is gone just as quickly as it arrived as Blaine stands up. "I'll see you around."

Sebastian's throat closes around the urge to cry, for the first time in the months surrounding this whole petty ordeal. The emotions have finally caught up with him, and he just feels tired. He croaks out a soft, "Yeah," before turning back to his work and willing himself to breathe.

He calls his sister early the next day. Ella is older than Sebastian, nearly finished with college in France, studying hard to become a middle school guidance counselor and, possibly, an ESL teacher. The two of them have been polar opposites for their entire lives—Sebastian would never willingly place himself within ten feet of a kid, let alone be responsible for a middle schooler’s mental health. Ella is kind in all the ways Sebastian is not. They make a good team when they’re together.

“I think I fucked everything up,” Sebastian says as soon as she picks up the phone, earning a soft laugh.

“Hello to you too, _gavroche,”_ she says, and Sebastian rolls his eyes at the nickname.

He spends the next few minutes explaining everything that went down, Ella chiming in every so often to ask questions or keep him from straying from the topic too far. By the end, Sebastian’s pacing frantically in the middle of his room, and he’s glad Brass is nowhere to be seen for this little episode.

Both of them are quiet for a lifetime, until Ella hums softly. “You seem to really like this guy. Sometimes people just need their space, you know? Sometimes in life things get worse before they get any better.”

Sebastian scrubs a hand over the side of his hair. “It seems like it keeps getting worse, El.”

“I know,” she sighs, and she sounds just as upset as Sebastian feels. “These things just take time. It won’t just go away, Sebastian, but I think if you give him space, maybe he’ll find it in him to forgive you.”

Sebastian glances at himself in the mirror and stops walking. He looks exhausted, rumpled. He looks away before he can think about it too much, sitting down on his bed with a heavy sigh. 

“Thanks. You’re going to be a great armchair therapist.”

Ella laughs. “You bet I am.”

•••

In the huddle, backstage at Regionals, Sebastian asks Trent to lead the way. The past few days things have been tense between the group, even more than the past few weeks. A lot has happened. Sebastian can’t think of that now; he jumps a couple of times and shakes out his hands to get ready before getting into the circle.

“Before we start,” Sebastian says, clapping a hand on Trent’s shoulder. “I know these past few weeks have been a lot, but I can’t thank you guys enough for still putting your trust in me. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

He looks around the circle—some of them still look uneasy on their feet, but they’re smiling nonetheless. Sebastian echoes their smile, and pats Trent’s shoulder again. He gives a rousing speech, about what they’re performing for, about all the things that have gotten them to this point. Sebastian feels good when they do the Warbler chant. It’s been a while since he has.

Sebastian’s not paying much attention to the crowd until Finn stands up to cheer. For the remainder of the two songs, his eyes are locked on the section of the crowd the New Directions is in, trying to gauge Blaine’s reaction to these songs. Kurt beside him is less than thrilled, but that much was expected. Blaine looks proud, almost, and while it certainly isn’t pride at Sebastian leading the group, Sebastian lets himself believe while he’s on the stage. “Glad You Came” comes to a close. They take their bows, all of the Warblers bounding excitedly offstage and offering Sebastian congratulatory pats and hugs as they collect their seats in the audience.

His cynical brain clocks the New Directions using a fog machine to distract from their dancing abilities, or the weird-ass choice of a mashup of a Nicki Minaj song and a song no one’s thought about in years. He hides a laugh in a cough when Blaine comes up to start rapping—why do they _keep_ letting Blaine rap?—and gets the Warblers on their feet to start clapping. Confidence in their performance stays still throughout the rest of the song, and whatever girl’s group (how do they have enough women for that?) that was a result of, to the best of Sebastian’s memory, Rachel’s biological mother trying to stage a coup, and the masturbatory Rachel solo is one of her less memorable. Sebastian feels good. Really good.

And they come in second. The Warblers put their trust in Sebastian, and he failed. After all that stress he put them through, he failed. One of the judges hobbles over to hand Sebastian the trophy, which, he supposes, is better than third place. Thad next to him slaps his side to get his attention, and when he looks, Blaine is walking away from the cheering New Directions to come over and shake his hand. 

If Sebastian were looking earlier, he’d have seen Blaine mid-celebration, glancing over his shoulder at Sebastian to see the disappointment loud and clear on his face, and pulling away to head over. All Sebastian sees is a tight-lipped, polite smile on Blaine’s face as he says, “Great job,” over the noise of celebration.

Sebastian doesn’t bother putting on a smile when he says, “You, too.”

It’s tradition—not in any written ways—for the Warblers, no matter what the result of the competition, to get together and drink. The Friday night after the competition, usually. Nearly everyone who was able to pitch in with alcohol or food did, so now the rehearsal room is full of half-drunk children all slumped around. There are a good few still up and dancing, one couple is in the corner passionately making out, and everyone else is in little groups, lumped up and talking. Sebastian is mostly basking in the chaos, tuning in and out with conversations as his drunkenness allows, but he catches a name that immediately pulls him in.

“Isn’t it fucked up that Kurt lost and then dipped?” Thad says, cackling, and Sebastian leans into this conversation.

“Oh, I gotta know this.”

Nick chimes in, “Last year, we lost Regionals too, right? I don’t—” he cuts himself off laughing, “I fully didn’t agree with ‘Candles’ as a choice, I mean seriously, who the fuck listens to Hey Monday? And Blaine was too whipped to argue—”

Thad groans. “There’s a reason we _vote_ for solos, and just because _one_ guy who Blaine _might_ like has a problem with that, we have to change the whole system?”

Nick barrels on. “So I’m fully convinced that Kurt’s little fit over a song made us lose Regionals, and instead of sticking with us, y’know, doing the circuit of performances and stuff, he just. Poof! Vanishes back to McKinley without a word.”

Sebastian’s mouth is hanging open, and Nick keeps laughing when he gets a glance at it. 

“He killed our fucking bird, lost us Regionals, and _left!”_ Nick exclaims, and Jeff slaps his shoulder, but it’s obvious that he agrees with him, too.

“I knew I didn’t fucking like Hummel,” Sebastian grumbles, taking a long sip from his weird, fruity mixed nightmare of a drink.

“We all know why _you_ don’t like Kurt,” Thad mutters, words slurred, jabbing an accusatory finger into Sebastian’s thigh. “You’re just jealous he got Blaine.”

Sebastian grimaces as the vodka burns his throat. “How’d he even manage that?”

“Like I said. He killed Pavarotti,” Nick laughs, and tips himself to lay down on the floor to Jeff’s dismay, “and then he sang a song about it. ‘Blackbird’, unsurprisingly. And Blaine was like ‘Ugh, take me now!’”

The three of them devolve into a laughing fit, and Sebastian watches on, amused. He’s still surprised they even still want to talk to him, let alone talk shit about their fearless leader’s boyfriend. It feels nice to know Sebastian’s not alone in his distaste for Kurt.

Jon, who has wandered into the conversation, sits heavily on the couch next to Sebastian. “You should’ve seen Kurt when we went to Gap to serenade that cashier dude.”

“Lasers!” Thad exclaims, “It was like he was trying to fire _lasers_ from his _eyes!_ They weren’t even dating!”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to start laughing, “I saw a clip from some random shopper of the whole thing. Shame it didn’t get Kurt.”

“My god, if any of us even breathed near Blaine he’d look like he was plotting a murder,” Jon chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Now Blaine can’t take a compliment,” and, because Sebastian’s feeling particularly bold, “you call a guy sexy and suddenly you’re the bad guy.”

Sebastian laughs along with the other guys for a few moments, but all is interrupted when someone starts playing “Two By Two” from Book of Mormon over the speaker and everyone decides it’s a good idea to try and do their best rendition of the Broadway choreography. Sebastian doesn’t need them to know that he knows the tap sequence inside and out, probably even while drunk, and the sight is so atrocious that it ends up making his sides hurt from laughter.

Maybe the Warblers don’t hate him for losing, because they know he tried. Nick ends up knocked out with his legs thrown across Sebastian’s lap. When he helps Jeff get him back to his dorm room, the two of them have what Sebastian vaguely remembers as a heart-to-heart outside the door.

Jeff later tells him, while the two of them are walking to rehearsal the following Monday, that he’s never seen Sebastian talk so much. Jeff laughs about it, assures him he didn’t say anything stupid before taking his seat on the couch, and that’s when Sebastian knows, at least a little bit, that the Warblers are on his side.

•••

Sebastian doesn’t text Blaine until the New Directions win Nationals. He had watched the event live through a student’s livestream, took notes on the competition, and there’s something in him that’s almost heartbroken when Blaine gets sidelined to a line or two throughout the entire thing. But he can’t lie and say that their performance wasn’t brilliant, that Rachel didn’t absolutely crush it, that he had “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” stuck in his head for hours afterward.

They won. Blaine had a Nationals win under his belt. The text conversation between them, which Sebastian had never had the heart to erase from his phone, gets opened for the first time in months. 

**Sebastian:** _congrats on the win! paradise by the dashboard light was insane._

Maybe it’s nostalgia, or boredom, who knows, but Sebastian scrolls a bit to read their last conversation. He brushes quickly past texts leading up to and through that whole ordeal. He stops on some mundane picture that Blaine sent him.

It’s a layout of five different bowties, very carefully placed on the foot of Blaine’s bed. Underneath reads:

 **Blaine:** _I can only keep three. HELP._

Sebastian smiles at his phone.

 **Sebastian:** _do you want my honest opinion or my blaine opinion_

 **Blaine:** _Honest._

 **Blaine:** _Wait, no, Blaine opinion._

It's weird to miss someone you feel like you barely knew. That's not to say Sebastian doesn't feel like he knows Blaine—but something deep in him aches to know that he took advantage of it all. Sebastian continues to scroll slowly through their conversation, about plaid versus flannel, complaints about homework to do, and lingers for a while on a good night text. Blaine managed to pry his way between the cracks in Sebastian's exterior, and sometimes it felt like on his way out, everything closed behind him.

It's overdramatic, but...there's just something about Blaine Anderson. 

Suddenly Sebastian feels everything again, from the anxiety of not knowing if he permanently hurt Blaine, through David Karofsky's suicide attempt, and tracks all the way back to everything that got him to where he was now. How he got forced out of the closet last year by kissing a boy in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fallout that came hand in hand with being called a predator at _fourteen._ How it became so bad he had to move to the States with his father. 

His thumb presses hard into the screen of his phone, a web of light spreading under it until he lets go and it fades away. Sebastian wanted to tell all this to Blaine, in time. Time he wasted. Time he ruined. He's never wanted to let anyone in, not since it's failed him before.

With a shuddering inhale, he closes the conversation, but reopens it when he sees a new text.

 **Blaine:** _Thanks!_

Sebastian sets his phone aside.

•••

Senior year takes off at a speed that no one is expecting. It’s a vast contrast to what Sebastian’s summer consisted of—mostly helping out at his father’s office and laying out by a pool. Sebastian thought he got used to the Dalton pace last year, but even the graduating Warblers couldn’t prepare him for what the workload would look like. With his career and college aspirations, though, he knows he has to be able to handle the Columbia workload, especially since not only shooting for business, he’s also trying to pursue the dance program at Barnard. He rallies for lacrosse captain, and he gets it. He finds a local dance company to pour himself into. He continues on as Warbler captain until a few months in.

The dean of academic life enters rehearsal as it ends one day, and pulls Sebastian aside into the adjoining office space that is mostly used by the captain. Explains that the Clarington family donated a lot of money, one of the stipulations being that their son captain the Warblers.

Sebastian laughs incredulously. “And you’re just going to let them do that? I worked for this position.”

The dean sighs. “I’m not thrilled about this either, Sebastian. They agreed to still have you as a co-captain.”

Well, his resume doesn’t have to change at least. He can bend the truth a bit. “Fine. But if I have any problems—”

“Come to me, yes, thank you.”

Hunter sucks. He’s one of those vacuum cleaner types of people—he comes in and just _sucks_ the fun out of the room he’s in. He makes some wild demands of the Warblers in order to start preparation for Sectionals.

“We are going to do whatever it takes for Dalton to restore its name and climb back to the top of the pecking order.”

It reminds Sebastian of the worst of himself. He hates it. The other seniors share a nervous glance, and Sebastian hangs back at rehearsal.

“Smythe, good, I wanted to speak with you,” Hunter says, crossing the room to pick up his evil, evil cat out of the chair in the corner.

“Is the super villain cat necessary?”

Hunter ignores him completely. “I’ve stolen the Nationals trophy from the New Directions.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?” Hunter gestures to the trophy case across the room and when Sebastian turns, sure enough, the Nationals trophy is sitting inside.

Sebastian places his hands down on the desk and leans forward. “Look, trying to resort to sabotage with the New Directions was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made since I’ve been here. And if you’re going to walk in here, with your bootlicker attitude and your twisted up, Whoville nose, and try to do it all over again, I’m going to—”

“What are you going to do, Sebastian? Blind me, too?” Hunter stands up to square up to Sebastian. “You don’t scare me, Smythe. This is my group now.”

Sebastian pushes off the desk to stand up, jaw clenched uncomfortably. “Because your family has money. You couldn’t even get into this group if you tried.”

Hunter scoffs, but doesn’t move. “They should be here tomorrow to try and reclaim their little trophy. Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of this. Now, if you don’t mind, let me run you through the plan for when he gets here.”

Sure enough, the next day, in all his dorky schoolboy glory, Blaine Anderson is finally walking down the staircase in Dalton once again. In his pockets, Sebastian’s thumbs tap anxiously on his legs, desperately trying to will his heart back down into its rightful place in his chest. He doesn’t try to analyze this feeling, this silent _giddiness_ that Blaine always seems to bring with him, that slips through the cracks and rattles everything loose that Sebastian’s worked _so hard_ to put in its place.

“Sebastian,” Blaine sighs as he trots down the stairs, and Sebastian slots his easy smirk back where it needs to be, “of course it was you.”

Sebastian hangs his head, a small laugh escapes on his breath out. “No, it wasn’t. I swear. I turned over a new leaf, remember?”

Blaine, under his breath, mumbles, “Oh, that’s right.” But Sebastian continues.

“No more...bullying, blackmail, or assault this year.” 

“That must be boring for you.”

“Yeah, it is. Being nice sucks.”

When he turns, smile on his face, he somehow expects things to be back to normal. Back to a year ago, when Blaine would smile and roll his eyes and shake his head about something dumb Sebastian would say. Instead, Blaine’s busy looking anywhere _but_ him, and Sebastian’s almost glad he’s not watching as his smile slips. He tries again.

“He’s waiting for you in the library.”

Blaine, _finally_ , makes eye contact with Sebastian. Sebastian doesn’t have it in him to fake happy with any of the situation, but luckily (and damn, he does not want to be lucky here) Blaine is too concerned with the trophy to notice. “Who is?”

“The guy you're here to see. The captain of the Warblers.”

“I thought you were captain of the Warblers.”

A few months ago, maybe. But Blaine’s not here to listen to that. No, Blaine heads inside and Sebastian watches him go, hands back anxiously tapping away in his pockets, and hopes Hunter doesn’t eat him alive.

It feels wrong, and the others know it. Nick, Jeff, and Jon join him outside before they go in.

“I don’t like this,” Nick mutters, and Sebastian sighs and casts a glance towards the door.

“Neither do I.”

It feels wrong to keep chasing this, this _pipe dream_ of trying to get Blaine back. It feels wrong to go spiralling down this road again, like a car that’s lost control on an icy road. It feels wrong to go in there and slide on his brave face, and convince Blaine to transfer back whether he likes it or not.

“We all know the real Blaine, Blaine,” he says, slotting on a smirk, “ambitious, driven. You’re a Dalton boy.”

The look Blaine gives him is almost pleading. If Sebastian were a different man, he’d go and grab the trophy himself. But he’s not different. Not after all this time, not one bit. Sure he might not be the one who stole the trophy, but he’s not helping Blaine get it back either. 

He holds his breath when he’s put in charge of slipping the blazer onto Blaine’s shoulders. Clenches his jaw when he smooths out the shoulder pads, and Blaine doesn’t so much as flinch. Breathes out as Hunter drags Blaine forward, head hung, feels Jeff give him a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. Because he’s better than this silly little...crush, or...sympathy, or whatever it is. 

“You know what goes great with a new Dalton blazer?” he chimes in, as rehearsed, and Hunter smirks approvingly at him. “An impromptu song.”

Blaine turns, still avoiding eye contact. “What, no no—”

“Come on, one song for your old buddies?”

And then they’re singing, and Sebastian can’t help himself. Can’t take his eyes away from Blaine, this Blaine, _legend_ Blaine, back in his full glory and singing like his life depends on it. Sebastian thinks about singing “Bad” with him in that parking lot, outcome aside. How good they sounded, how he’d _kill_ just to hear that voice combined with his one more time. And yeah, in a group like this, it doesn’t count, but he can dream. He can dream in the privacy of his own mind, watching the way Blaine moves and not even trying to hide the eye contact he might make. Sebastian ends up in front of Blaine more often than not, and Blaine looks right through him, probably. If the words to “Dark Side” hit a little harder than he thought they would, especially when singing directly to Blaine, that’s Sebastian’s problem. He can feel Hunter judging him too, but he doesn’t care. Honestly, he doesn’t even care that Blaine rips off the jacket. 

The next few weeks are a blur. A fast, excellent blur. The Nationals trophy gets stolen back, thank god. Sectionals come and go with relative ease, so the group has to gear up for Regionals and to go against the New Directions. The win went pretty much directly to Hunter’s head, but before Hunter can rejoice in winning and make them all hit the pavement again, news breaks that he’s actually nineteen and already has a high school degree, so the school kicks him out and keeps the money from the Claringtons, to boot.

They start gearing up for Regionals when Blaine actually surprises Sebastian by texting him first. 

**Blaine:** _I need your advice about something, because you’d be an unbiased opinion._

Sebastian stares at his phone for a while, contemplating the options. It can’t be show choir related, because they both knew how that went last time. He figures it has to be something that the New Directions are completely blind to—his personal life, if history is due to repeat itself.

 **Sebastian:** _lima bean?_

 **Blaine:** _I’d prefer to come to Dalton, if that’s okay._

Because people could see Blaine fraternizing with the enemy. Actually, the specific enemy that caused him pain last year. Sebastian gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

 **Sebastian:** _ofc, you know where the coffee shop is_

Sebastian grabs his bag off the back of the door and heads to the coffee shop. He remembers the first conversation him and Blaine there fondly—it was more one-sided than the rest of their friendship would end up being, before Sebastian learned that all Blaine needed was someone to simply listen to him sometimes. He orders his usual (or, rather, the student behind the counter prepares it without asking) and sits down facing the corner, leaving the other seat open for Blaine. He debates ordering Blaine’s drink briefly, a medium drip, before remembering that they haven’t been friends for the better part of a year. He pulls out some form of homework to keep his mind from wandering.

It’s not long before Blaine shows up, which Sebastian only notices when the other slides into the chair across from him with a sheepish smile. Sebastian’s eyes flick over him quickly; the outfit is much more casual than Blaine’s usual, forgoing the bowtie in favor of a soft-looking cardigan. He looks tired, and the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You still drink your coffee without sugar?” Blaine asks as an icebreaker, and he laughs as Sebastian, shocked, glances at his coffee.

“I didn’t know you were coming here to judge me about my coffee choices,” Sebastian says back, and Blaine’s head ducks to look down at his fidgeting hands.

Sebastian stays quiet, gives Blaine the space he might need before he admits why he actually came. It seems more serious than their “Warbler to Warbler” meetings in the past, which mostly revolved around an excuse to meet up and chat. The barista calls out Blaine’s coffee order and Sebastian hops up to get it before Blaine can, and when he places it in front of him, Sebastian smirks.

“I’m surprised they even make drip coffee here still. You’re the only one I know who drinks it.”

Blaine shrugs a shoulder. “Being a Dalton hero has its perks.”

Blaine smiles at Sebastian over the top of his cup, and Sebastian gives him an incredulous smile as he leans back and folds his arms. This is a Blaine he recognizes at least, one that knows his place in the world. Maybe Hunter’s scheme wasn’t all for nothing, it might’ve given him some confidence back.

“So,” Blaine starts as he puts his cup down, “McKinley’s doing a Sadie Hawkins dance.”

Sebastian knows vaguely of the time before Blaine was at Dalton, learned about it early on in their friendship when Sebastian had asked why his family picked Dalton. Blaine’s whole body tenses, and he picks at the sleeve on his coffee as he continues.

“It was Tina’s idea. We’ve gotten close since Kurt and them graduated, you know? And she’s _so_ excited and I know she’s going to ask me to it but...I don’t think I want to put myself through that.”

Sebastian mulls it over for a second, and Blaine looks up nervously. Is he the first one he’s told this to? He’s known about Kurt and Blaine’s break up for a while now, heard about it on social media, so he’s almost positive Kurt hasn’t been the sounding board for this. So, when all the friends you have are so excited for a school event that gives you terrible memories, and the school you attend now is no better at handling bullying…

“I think there are two options. One, you tell Tina this, or whoever. If she’s a good friend she’d understand your hesitation. Maybe see a movie or whatever there is to do in Lima. Or, two, which still includes the first option, but you go. Make some new, better memories so you don’t look back at a Sadie Hawkins dance and think about what happened.”

It’s Blaine’s turn to be quiet, and Sebastian takes the moment to finish his coffee and set it aside. He understands Blaine hesitance to let people be clued in to his emotions—he might even be a professional at it. 

“So there’s a second problem, then.”

Sebastian sighs dramatically. “Uh oh.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, and Sebastian gets thrown back into their friendship all those months ago.

“Say there’s this guy I like,” Blaine says, a blush riding high on his cheeks, “and I know it’s just a fantasy, but there’s going to be all these...straight couples being all kissy-kissy, and I’m going to be the lonely one with my girl best friend.”

There’s about a one-hundred to one chance that the guy that Blaine is talking about is, in fact, Sebastian. Given that this is the first time they’ve spoken in months. But there’s this warm lick of hope making itself known in Sebastian’s chest, which he knows is going to disappoint him in a minute.

“Why can’t you ask this _guy?”_ Sebastian hopes the question doesn’t come out sounding as bitter as it does in his head. Blaine must not notice, because he hides his face in his hands and makes a pathetic noise.

“He’s straight and my best friend,” he whines, and despite the sinking feeling as all hope falls away, Sebastian laughs.

“Is it that Sam kid?” Blaine nods. “Oh man, Killer, you really are hopeless. Your taste in men needs serious recalibration.”

Their rendezvous is cut short by Sebastian's lacrosse practice, and Blaine agrees he should leave as well. It’s a lot like the first time they met—and it feels like a place where they’re starting over. Sebastian doesn’t have to ask if Blaine forgives him, because he knows he does. There’s no excusing what happened, it’s a silent understanding between them, but the fact that Blaine is trusting Sebastian with this information speaks volumes. Sebastian, as he walks down the hallway towards the locker rooms, thinks he feels eyes on his back. If he had turned around, he would see Blaine taking a moment as he walks backwards to watch Sebastian go, a small smile on his face.

Blaine texts Sebastian that he got home safe, and they start talking again as though nothing happened.

 **Blaine:** _Emma just ran out on her own wedding_

 **Blaine:** _But we’re still doing the reception???_

 **Blaine:** _Also Kurt and I nearly hooked up in the car before the wedding there is a lot happening rn_

Sebastian fucking hates Valentines Day, but he’s not going to let the idea of Blaine and Kurt possibly getting back together ruin his fun. He doesn’t want to be one of those sad guys at a bar on Valentine’s Day trying to score some action. He’s actually been trying to go to Scandals and The Mint less, one because he nearly got caught being incredibly underage, but two because he’s so exhausted between clubs and school that he had to start going to bed at a reasonable time. The senior Warblers, however, invited him to a movie and then getting drunk in the dorms, and he’s going to try his hardest to enjoy it. Even with knowing that Blaine’s slinking back to Kurt despite all of their problems in the past. It’s not his problem.

 **Sebastian:** _why are you still doing the reception, thats fucked up_

 **Blaine:** _They already spent the money on it! Who cares, Kurt and I are going to do a duet :D_

It’s not getting to him. It’s _not._

The movie is good enough, and when he gets out, he’s not surprised that he doesn’t have any more texts from Blaine. It’s late, everyone at that reception probably paired off because what the hell else are you supposed to do on Valentine’s Day? Nick sidles up to Sebastian and nudges him.

“You look like someone pissed in your popcorn.”

Sebastian gives a humorless laugh. “You have such a way with words.”

Nick nudges him again and Sebastian clenches his jaw, still looking straight ahead. “I know it sucks to be alone on Valentine’s, dude, but you’re with us!”

“Valentine’s Day is just straight people propaganda.”

Jeff spins around to start walking backwards, gesturing wildly. “That’s what I was saying! I think we should bring back giving those little cards with candy in them to everyone at school.”

By the time they get back to Dalton, the drinking is in full swing; practically the entire hallway, including the RA, is in the hallways and drinking, and Sebastian lets himself be swept up into it. The lacrosse guys drag him into a game of beer pong, but it seems like his luck is running low today, because him and his partner, a large jock-type named Charlie, end up losing and drinking a punishment drink that makes Sebastian’s entire body burn from the inside out. It might be the answer to why he ends up on his back in Charlie’s incredibly disgusting dorm room—while Charlie is doing his best to please a man for what feels like the first time in his life, Sebastian takes in the surroundings until the big oaf gets his footing and figures it out.

Charlie doesn’t protest when Sebastian gets up on unsteady feet to start putting the rest of his clothes back on, but he doesn’t stop staring and it’s getting under Sebastian's skin.

“Guess you can check sleeping with the captain off your bucket list,” Sebastian jokes as he grabs his pants off the ground, and Charlie makes a disgruntled noise that Sebastian doesn’t care for one bit.

“You’re not going to—”

“No I’m not going to tell anyone,” Sebastian snaps, jumping to get his jeans up, “I don’t particularly care for dragging your ass out of the overcrowded closet that is Dalton.”

Charlie sits up, looking suspiciously like a kicked puppy. “Are you always this mean?”

Probably. “Sorry I’m not basking in the afterglow of a mediocre orgasm, do you want me to hop back in that bed and pretend like this was how I wanted to spend my Valentine’s Day?”

Charlie’s face melds into a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I think you should leave.”

“What do you think I was doing?”

Sebastian glances around the room one last time, despite the gentle spinning of his head trying to keep him from doing so. Whatever clothing item he’s forgetting can be sacrificed to the dirt piles in Charlie’s room for all he cares. He throws a hand up as he leaves, and isn’t surprised to see the party’s dregs still trying to carry on the fun.

The hallway is disgusting, littered with cups and bottles and some fluids that Sebastian does _not_ want to know the origin of. Thad is still on his feet with a couple of guys Sebastian’s never seen before, and Sebastian says hello as he has to pass through them to get back to his dorm. He has to kick a few cups out of the way to get inside, fumbling with his keys for a moment before pushing his way inside.

His roommate, a man taller than himself who everyone calls Brass, is sitting on his bed while one of his football friends stands up and chats with him, both nursing beers that Sebastian doesn’t think he saw outside. Brass holds one up in cheers, and Sebastian nods as he kicks his shoes off somewhere underneath his bed.

“You want one, dude? You look like shit.”

“Really wish people would stop telling me that,” Sebastian grumbles, and when he pulls his shirt off, Brass whistles low and the friend gives a choked-off laugh.

“You get bit by a short vampire or what?”

Great. Just what he fucking needs. Sure enough, when he checks the mirror leaned against the wall, there’s a big ass bite mark on his side. Who even bites someone there? He makes a mental note to make Charlie pay for it during the next practice.

Sebastian swears under his breath and pulls on a t-shirt before sitting on the side of his bed closest to Brass’. Brass pops open the beer and tosses it to him, which manages to only spill on the floor a bit and not anywhere near the bed. This friend ends up wiping it up, like this has happened multiple times that night.

Their dorm room is nothing special, thanks to random roommate selection, but if Sebastian were to describe Brass’ decoration style, he would have an incredibly hard time trying to pin it down. Future frat boy doesn’t quite cover it, because it’s neat, but there’s a giant _Pulp Fiction_ poster and at least three different football-related decorations. His desk is neat, and there’s a small plant that is currently blooming in the corner that Sebastian has never seen him water.

That’s not to say that Sebastian’s side is any better. There isn’t much to go by based on personal effects; a photo of his family sits on the desk, his lacrosse gear sits in an almost-tidy lump in the corner, and a poster of some French film that his mother sent him when he first moved hangs above his bed. Everything else is pretty much for function: grey sheets, a lamp on his desk, way too many pens and pencils in a holder. 

The three of them end up talking until nearly three in the morning, and Sebastian has a dreamless night’s sleep. Sleep is a strong word, really, because his internal clock sets off at seven in the morning, and while he’s thankful for a headache and not much else, he would much prefer to stay in bed. After falling asleep again seems hopeless, he sets out to the lacrosse field, and does drills until his head isn’t the only thing that’s aching anymore.

It’s nearing eleven when he walks the familiar path through the woods and into his normal spot. Sebastian knows he probably should’ve brought a coat out with him; everything outside is coated in a thin layer of ice, the clearing full of untouched snow from last week’s gentle storm. His feet crunch nicely and disturb the surroundings, and he thinks if he listens close enough, he can hear it echo through the trees. The spot is a bit more exposed to the outside in the winter, anyone walking by could spot a person in here if they tried hard enough, but Sebastian sits down on the log and breathes out a puff of air like cigarette smoke.

The quiet is a nice reprieve from all the people he’s been around lately. Between the dance company and the Warblers and lacrosse, he barely has a minute to come up for air sometimes. He’s a social person, but even the most outgoing people need some time to themselves sometimes. He doesn’t mind that the cold feels like it’s seeping into his bones, nor that he should get moving for dance rehearsal later that day, or even that his head still hurts. He takes a deep breath, the cold tickles his lungs, and as if on cue, his phone starts buzzing, and it’s Blaine.

“This better be good.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” Blaine sounds excited on the other end, and Sebastian pinches at the bridge of his nose.

“No, I’ve been up for a while. What’s up?”

Blaine rattles on about Kurt for what feels like a decade. They sang together, they danced, they hooked up in a hotel room while the reception was still going on, blah blah blah. Blaine’s tone shifts when he starts saying that Kurt keeps insisting that they’re still friends, and Sebastian tunes back in.

“—I just feel like he’s denying that we’re something special together, you know?”

“Sure,” Sebastian offers, because it’s what Blaine wants to hear. Blaine doesn’t want to hear that he’s blowing his relationship with Kurt out of proportion, or (from the parts Sebastian did listen to) Kurt doesn’t seem to want Blaine past a quick fuck and a good time.

“Well, what about—how was your Valentine’s?”

Sebastian sighs a laugh. “Fine, uneventful. Hung out with the Warblers, the whole hall had a party. Free liquor, hooked up with a guy. Yours was much more interesting to listen to.”

Blaine laughs quietly on the other side. “A lot happens over here. You found a guy at Dalton? I thought you hated them all.”

“My bar gets lower when alcohol is involved.”

“I’ll say,” Blaine breathes, and Sebastian chuckles. “Oh! Also, Tina has had feelings for me for like, months now, so she flipped out on Kurt for no reason.”

“Wow, Tina’s a hag. I never would have guessed,” Sebastian deadpans, and he knows that if they were talking about this in person, Blaine would hit him.

“Hey, that’s my best friend we’re talking about.”

“Thought that was me?”

Sebastian takes the moment when Blaine is protesting on the other end to check the time, swearing under his breath. He pushes himself up with a grunt and a shiver. 

“Alright, B, I gotta run. I’ve got rehearsal in half an hour that I should get ready for.”

Blaine makes an interested noise. “Warblers? I thought you didn’t rehearse on weekends.”

Sebastian chuckles. “I’m part of a dance company in town.”

“I didn’t know you danced. Well, outside show choir, obviously.”

Sebastian smirks to himself as he starts walking, watching the ground to make sure he doesn’t slip. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Sebastian thinks, as Blaine wishes him good luck and hangs up, that he might be okay with teaching Blaine about those things.

•••

More time goes on, Regionals creeps closer and closer. The Warblers have chosen today to do a group vote on which songs they want to sing. A couple of the juniors who want to study music in college have been working on a capella arrangements for recent and popular songs, so it’s not surprising those rise to the top of the list quickly. Much faster than any of the other songs in their repertoire, which only surprises Trent. 

This isn’t to say that Sebastian is thrilled with these choices. He tries to give the solos to other people, but voting goes against him, and now he needs to learn how to not look like an idiot while rapping “Whistle” by Flo Rida. Which isn’t ideal, but if the team trusts him enough to take both solos, then he’s not going to let them down.

First rehearsal on “Live While We’re Young” goes well and leads right up until their time runs out, and Sebastian sticks behind to try and learn the words before they keep going with rehearsal. His phone buzzes on the table next to him a few times, and on the third text he opens it up.

 **Blaine:** _I need a favor from you._

 **Blaine:** _Can you steal our shitty Regionals set list so we don’t have to sing these songs? I’m convinced its the only way Mr. Shue will actually listen to me about his awful song choices._

 **Blaine:** _The songs in question: Dreamweaver, Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This, and You Make My Dreams Come True._

 **_Sebastian:_ ** _one, cant believe you guys actually listen to the theme. two, are you trying to sabotage me?_

 **Blaine:** _I really wish I was joking. And then he snapped at me for trying to help us win Regionals. This is just like last year all over again._

 **Sebastian:** _if you want to drop out just say so and the warblers will gracefully take you back_

 **Sebastian:** _or just insist on your new songs until shue croaks_

 **Blaine:** _That’s the plan. How’s the Warblers?_

 **Sebastian:** _like i’m gonna tell you ;)_

And it continues like that up until the competition. The updates on the Kurt situation don’t upset Sebastian too much anymore. Kurt’s going through his own stuff that doesn’t concern Sebastian (or, honestly, Blaine) and Sebastian has to focus on his solos for the competition. And there’s a dance show right before spring to celebrate another season which he has a pretty big role in, not to mention the lacrosse season is nearly underway. Things get quiet, and miraculously enough, they make it to Regionals without a run-in with the New Directions. They don’t even come across each other right before they go on stage.

The Warblers go first, and it goes incredibly well. Staging is always complicated a bit by not having competitions at home, flips and all can get a little jumbled if the stage is any smaller than their home turf, but they perform without a hitch. He thinks fondly on the protests the others had about learning more “out-there” tricks, but the audience reaction definitely solidifies their place into the Warbler tradition. “Whistle” was an unexpected choice, and Sebastian’s more nervous for it than he’s been for any other song at a competition, but the audience eats it up. He tries not to look at the New Directions section of the crowd while he’s performing—not because their opinion is going to make or break his performance, but because he doesn’t need the distractions any more than they do. The two groups have been friendly enough. The New Directions even get up and cheer during “Live While We’re Young”, which none of them were expecting, and the underclassmen talk about it excitedly as they leave the stage to go take their seats in the crowd.

Backstage, the two groups cross each other. Most of the New Directions busy themselves with warming up or final touches on hair and makeup. The upperclassmen of the Warblers whisper to Blaine to grab his attention, and they exchange soft hellos and waves, even a surprised greeting when Kurt makes himself known too. When Sebastian passes, both Kurt and Blaine are watching him. Kurt isn’t watching Blaine, who smiles and mouths “Good luck” to him as he goes. Sebastian smirks, gives Blaine a wink, and watches Kurt squirm. Who cares? They’re not together anyway.

Sebastian can safely say he doesn’t recognize most of the members of the New Directions. It’s like they keep coming out of the woodwork. He also notes that New Directions is trying to move around the stage more. Key word is trying. Their performances aren’t particularly memorable, the original song doesn’t really do them too many favors, but he does feel good knowing that they gave Blaine the duet in the end. The Warblers feel good about their odds in the competition.

But, they come in second again. And Sebastian can’t find it in him to be upset. Neither can the rest of the Warblers, actually, because they all start congratulating Sebastian and the other seniors as they head off the stage with their trophy.

Way later, when Sebastian’s about to head to bed, he gets a text from Blaine.

 **Blaine:** _You did great, Bas. I’m actually a little surprised we won._

Sebastian laughs at his phone.

 **Sebastian:** _you and me both. you were amazing. cant speak about the rest of the new directions though_

•••

It’s the dregs of the beginning of Warbler rehearsal, where everyone would much rather be doing anything else than noting the minutes for the meeting or trying to brainstorm things to do. Half the Warblers are just lounging elsewhere, leaving Sebastian with a few juniors who still have the vaguest interest in planning.

He hears the music before he sees anything approach. Sebastian’s walking through the plans for the rest of the year for the Warblers, what performances do they do, when do they start planning for the senior showcase, when suddenly and loudly Blaine and what appears to be a metric fuckton of people from other show choirs barge in. It feels like something out of a movie—Blaine is leading the charge by singing “Help!” by the Beatles, Vocal Adrenaline is dancing, the deaf show choir is signing, the New Directions are bouncing around with a mixture of shock and awe on their faces.

Sebastian glances around at the other Warblers to make sure he’s not having a wildly specific hallucination, before Blaine bum rushes him, takes the clipboard from his hands, and sets it aside. There’s a lot going on, nobody has even _explained_ anything and the other Warblers are joining in, and Sebastian can’t help but laugh as he watches Blaine, same as he ever was, running around the room. One of the Vocal Adrenaline girls explains over the music what’s going on, and Sebastian doesn’t have time to react to hearing Blaine is planning a giant proposal to Kurt. The energy is infectious as the rest of the group straggles in.

“We need an official vote,” Trent says, and Sebastian turns to look, “but in the spirit of brotherhood, I think we’d all be happy to help.”

“Uh, Trent,” Sebastian swoops in, and Trent rolls his eyes fondly as Sebastian assumes his place up front. “We said I’d do the talking. All in favor of helping Blaine?”

The room erupts into cheers of “Aye!”, but Sebastian’s not too concerned with all that. Blaine’s young, way too young to even think about marriage in his own opinion, but if Blaine’s happy, well, who is Sebastian to be the party pooper.

He’s smiling and only watching Blaine, but that’s okay. This whole event is for him, so he’s letting himself stare as Blaine high fives Sam. Sebastian truly does hope it goes well for him, even though the Warblers are going to have to start arranging a new song in the next two days.

Blaine turns to him and catches his gaze, and despite it all, Sebastian’s heart swells. Blaine mouths, “Thank you,” and, for the first time in at least a year, goes in for the hug. 

There are a couple things Sebastian selfishly notices. One, Blaine leans up onto his toes in order to sling an arm over Sebastian’s for the hug. Two, Blaine is incredibly warm. And three, Sebastian is unbelievably touch-starved.

The various groups all slowly start making their way out of the rehearsal room, the Warblers all assembling in their typical spots for rehearsal. Sam steps in to explain that they’ll all be singing “All You Need Is Love” as Kurt walks through Dalton, and Blaine will be proposing on the stairs. One of the other upperclassmen better be taking notes behind Sebastian, because Sebastian’s suddenly incredibly aware of what’s going to happen in a few days. Blaine is not only going to propose to Kurt, who, last Sebastian heard, he _wasn’t_ dating, but he’s also making a bold statement about marriage equality in Ohio by using a bunch of opposing show choirs. It’s a very Blaine move, and a very stupid move at that.

They spend the rest of the rehearsal learning the parts to the song, thanks to sheet music they found already arranged online. Sebastian is itching to get out, be alone, _something_ other than focus on the fact that Blaine is proposing to Kurt. But, as fate has it, that’s all he’s doomed to hear.

When he walks into his room after lacrosse practice, Brass takes off a headphone in order to turn and smile at Sebastian.

“I heard that that Blaine guy is using Dalton to propose.”

Sebastian grunts an affirmative and sits down heavily on his bed, despite the grass-stained and sweat-soaked clothing that he tries to keep off it. “It’s crazy to think about.”

“At least they’re not getting married here,” Brass says on a laugh, and he looks to Sebastian for a reaction, but he doesn’t have it in him to give him one.

“Yeah,” Sebastian mutters as he leans down to rip his shoes off.

He’s not quite sure the emotion he’s feeling. Does it stem from liking Blaine? Yeah, maybe. But there’s so much more to it that Sebastian needs to spend time unpacking. Brass is still watching him as he gets up and grabs his things to go shower, clearly trying to figure out what’s going on in his head.

There’s the aspect of Blaine not telling him things like this. It’s unreasonable to be upset about, Sebastian doesn’t need to be filled in on every single aspect of Blaine’s life—but he’s allowed to be a little irrational in the privacy of his own mind. He thought they were closer than that. It’s a big secret to keep, and he wonders if Blaine kept that secret from his friends at McKinley, too.

Another thing is the past problems he’s heard (and some he’s seen) about his and Kurt’s relationship. Kurt seemed pretty set in his ways to move on the last time Sebastian had checked in. Before that, Kurt, much like the rest of the New Directions, simply didn’t listen to Blaine’s needs. Blaine found it much easier to stifle himself in order to bend to what everyone else wanted, at least from what Sebastian can tell. The Blaine today, the one defying everyone’s expectations to make a statement this bold? That’s the Blaine that freedom allows, one that’ll go against tradition to invade a Gap or change setlists or defy authority to get what he wants. Blaine, in his relationship, stifles himself to what Kurt wants him to be; he doesn’t shine as bright to let Kurt do it for him.

It’s selfish for Sebastian to be upset about, but when has his mind ever been reasonable?

Sebastian doesn’t sleep well for the next two days.

The day arrives, and it turns quickly into one of those days where an underlying buzz creeps under Sebastian’s skin. He’s anxious, he doesn’t know why, and his classes feel like a lifetime and a half. He doesn’t let anyone figure this out, of course, and he’s glad the majority of his classes require little to no interactivity. Warbler rehearsal is just a rehash of the music, and it’s easy to let himself fade into the background there. He skips lacrosse practice in favor of the proposal, and in order to keep himself from skipping the whole affair all together, he reminds himself how much this means to Blaine. So he’s there. He’s present. And he has a smile on his face.

The affair is gorgeous, really. It’s amazing the plan even comes together, the Warblers nailed down quick choreography to be in the front room, Sebastian front and center whether he likes it or not. Kurt doesn’t pay them much mind, but Sebastian gets it. There’s a lot going on all at once. The Warblers make their way out into the hall to dance with the New Directions, who are still mostly strangers to Sebastian. Their smiles seem genuine, which makes sense. He wonders how much they even know about Kurt, how much they might know about Blaine outside of what he puts on for the glee club. In that regard, Sebastian thinks, as he tries his hardest to match the smiles from across the room, he and Blaine are not so different.

As soon as Kurt and Blaine leave the room, Sebastian opts for avoiding dancing with the New Directions, trying to peer forward to see if they’ve moved enough so they can take their places at the staircase. Nobody really seems to mind this choice, especially not Sam, who he had just spun places with around the couple, as per the choreography. In fact, none of the New Directions seem to pay him much mind, which only makes the dull, anxious ache in between his ribs pull tighter. 

As luck may have it, as they flood into the bottom of the staircase, he ends up front and center there, too. Kurt’s father is in front of him, but Sebastian gets sidetracked by Vocal Adrenaline filling in, their women on their shoulders. It’s a shame they never teamed up. Maybe he’ll put that on the list of upcoming events to try.

His efforts to keep his mind off the event at hand quickly prove futile, as everyone shuffles in and Kurt starts descending the stairwell. McKinley alumni file in above, the ones still there fill in below. Sebastian can’t deny that this feels like an end to a chapter he didn’t really realize they had started.

He watches Blaine’s back as they talk, but he’s not really listening to what he’s saying. He’s almost positive Trent is sniffling next to him. Someone whispers, “Oh my god”, another person shushes them. Sebastian’s holding his breath, and he doesn’t really know why. He realizes he’s been tensing his shoulders since they came to a stop. He wants to leave.

Five things he can see. Blaine proposing. Kurt’s father in front of him. The staircase. An ever-falling rose petal. The new New Directions girl, looking at him. He takes a breath and puts on a smile.

Four things he can feel. The tension in his shoulders. His hands, clasped tight at his front. His feet on the marble. His teeth on the inside of his cheek. He takes another breath.

Three things he can hear. Blaine is still talking, something about hands. Trent’s sniffles beside him. Someone’s feet scuff the floor. This breath he takes is slower.

Two things he can smell. Flowers, rose petals specifically. If he focuses, the floor cleaner used to polish the marble every Friday. He lets out a large breath, because people have started clapping.

One thing he can taste doesn’t matter, because Kurt has said yes, and he slips out the back as the two of them descend the staircase to get swarmed with congratulations.

Blaine doesn’t text him for a while. But it’s okay, because Sebastian hasn’t reached out, either.

He throws himself into planning a Vocal Adrenaline and Warblers crossover benefit, which the other team is surprisingly okay with coordinating. It’ll benefit a bunch of local Lima businesses, it’ll look good on his college applications, which he also throws himself into. Columbia’s not easy, so he puts his focus where it actually matters.

Sebastian doesn’t quite notice it, but he’s also shut himself off from people in this quest. The senior Warblers, because of this, start inviting him to grab coffee after practice. The lacrosse season ends without much of a fuss, so he has the slightest more time to spend with them. He becomes grateful for the distraction.

“If you could pick a Vocal Adrenaline alumni to bang, who would it be?” Thad asks, and Nick makes a noise like he’s been thinking about this for his entire life.

“Easily Jesse St. James.”

“I’m siding with Nick here,” Sebastian chimes in, “that dude’s a brat just begging to get put in his place.”

Trent coughs around his sip of coffee, and Nick raises a hand for a high five, which Sebastian obliges him with.

“I liked Sunshine Corazon,” Jeff says, “but does their old coach count as a member? Because _damn_.”

Trent scoffs. “That dude was a psychopath.”

The conversation rarely gets more philosophical than that, but it’s a nice break. Especially from the college-age dancers trapped in Ohio he surrounds himself with in his free time.

At the studio, there are really only three women who Sebastian concerns himself with. Marissa, a woman in her mid-thirties who basically only wears yoga pants and the same teal sports bra, teaches the classes. She’s passionate about her job, but Sebastian thinks she could push her company a little bit harder to get the work done. Desiree, who must be around Sebastian’s age, who has maybe said three words, all of them to Sebastian in the breaks between songs, and all of them completely out of left field. He desperately wants to know more about her, but every time he turns to ask, she’s vanished from his side and gone to take a break. And River, who is a woman with long, bright pink hair, who takes everything so seriously it’s frightening, but she has a good heart. She wears ridiculously expensive leotards every rehearsal (yes, Sebastian looked them up) and the kicker? She’s not that great.

The studio itself is nothing to write home about. It looks like any other dance studio—white walls, floor to ceiling windows, barres that rarely get used save for stretching in the beginning. The rehearsals are tough, but rewarding at the end of the season, when they perform a new piece choreographed by Marissa. The pace she choreographs is impressive, and Sebastian is glad someone like that exists in the Ohio area. It seems like they’re just as happy to have a young male excited in dancing in the Ohio area, too.

River saunters up to him after today’s rehearsal, Sebastian catching her eye in the mirror and turning around to greet her.

“You inviting anyone to this season’s show?” she asks, and Sebastian shrugs as he takes a drink from his water bottle.

“I mean, my father and her girlfriend are coming, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“What about that guy you told me about?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. He told her once, in passing, because Blaine was calling him about some uneventful McKinley drama that he doesn’t remember. “He’s been busy lately.”

“Well invite him! He can make some time for your performance.” She smiles, and Sebastian raises his eyebrows with a gentle nod of his head.

He does, however, end up pulling out his phone later that evening.

 **Sebastian:** _can i interest you in my dance show next sunday?_

He pauses, purses his lips, and deletes the message to try again.

 **Sebastian:** _hey, the dance company im a part of is having a show next weekend if you wanna come_

He sighs and shoots it off, tossing his phone to the side of the bed. Brass, who is disgustingly sneaky for someone of his size, chuckles softly.

“I’d know the risky text reaction anywhere.”

“Mind your own business, Green Giant,” Sebastian grumbles, but he smiles when Brass turns to flip him off.

It’s not long before his phone buzzes and he reaches to grab it, ignoring Brass’, “Oh man, here it comes!”

 **Blaine:** _I’d love to! That’s so exciting!_

 **Blaine:** _Also, sorry I haven’t said much lately. Got swamped with a whole bunch of things at once._

 **Sebastian:** _didnt even notice_

 **Blaine:** _Ha ha. You free?_

Sebastian pushes himself up and off his bed, grabbing his sweatshirt off the foot of his bed as he goes.

“Oooh, Blaine decided you’re good enough to call again?” Brass says as he pulls open the door, and Sebastian grabs the nearest thing—Brass’ pillow—to chuck at his head.

Sebastian ends up sitting on a bench close to the school when Blaine calls him. They end up talking for quite some time, about Finn’s death and Kurt’s wellbeing, mostly. Sebastian had heard about it through the grapevine, figured it better left to those who were close to him. It still rattled Dalton something fierce, though, and Sebastian confesses to a Warbler rehearsal dedicated to unpacking everyone’s emotions in order to process everything.

Conversation lightens quickly, though, to Tina’s absolute meltdown over prom queen, and some weird debate about Katy Perry or Lady Gaga that Sebastian doesn’t understand one bit. He agrees with Blaine, though, that he’s a total Lady Gaga. Whatever that means.

“Oh! You’re going to get a kick out of this one,” Blaine says with a laugh.

“What’s that?”

“We’re...doing a twerking lesson this week.”

“Blaine, you _have_ to let me come visit McKinley for that. I can be a pretty good guest teacher.”

Blaine must cover his face with his hand, because his next words are muffled. “And it’s all my fault because Tina caught me twerking while cleaning up the choir room.”

Sebastian laughs, basking in the soft chuckles from Blaine’s end. “Hold on, let me just text her for the video…”

“Bas, no, I swear to god—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, she would just assume I’d use it for blackmail anyway.”

“And that’s not what you’d do?”

Sebastian smiles, gives a nod to the group of guys walking past him and glancing his way. “Personal blackmail, maybe.”

He pictures Blaine rolling his eyes, the image clear as day despite how long it’s been. Sebastian figures he’s probably witnessed it enough for a lifetime. 

“I have a fiancé, remember?”

“In the wise words of a past Sebastian, doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

He takes the small beat of silence to watch the clouds drift gently past the sunset and listen to the soft sounds of whatever Blaine’s doing on the other side. When it’s clear Blaine’s run out of things to say, Sebastian sighs.

“How are you coping with being in separate states, anyway?”

“It’s...tough, I guess,” Blaine chuckles, but there’s something sad in it.

“Hey,” Sebastian sighs, digging a toe into the dirt, “you’ll be out there with him before you know it. I’m sure you and Princess Hummel can resume your sensual late-night bingewatches of _True Blood_ in person without even knowing you spent a year apart.”

Blaine laughs, and the sound rattles happily in Sebastian’s head. “There’s only seven seasons.”

“That probably have endless rewatchability. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it.”

A gasp. “Okay no, that’s your homework now. I’m going to quiz you on the life and times of Sookie the next time we talk and if you don’t ace it—”

“Speaking of homework, I really should get back to that and not watching a terrible vampire show for prepubescent girls who will develop a biting kink.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Blaine says on a laugh. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll hold my breath.”

•••

Sebastian picks his phone up as he walks out of his classroom and towards his dorm, on a particularly overcast day in the spring.

“Am I controlling?” Blaine asks out the gate, which makes Sebastian scoff.

“I don’t feel qualified to answer that question.”

“I’m just tired of the New Directions treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing,” Blaine continues, and Sebastian can picture him waving his arms as he talks. “They’re so...so _resistant_ to having a leader that isn’t Mr. Shue, I have more experience in competitions than any of them, but god forbid _I’m_ the one that suggests trying something new for Nationals, right?”

Sebastian feels like this is the same argument, word for word, that he witnessed shortly after meeting Blaine last year. Somehow it keeps surprising Blaine, but Sebastian is not really shaken by it. “You talk to Kurt about this?”

Blaine makes a frustrated noise. “He said if I come on ‘too strong’ they’ll see me as a ‘puppet master’.”

“So he called you a control freak, is what you’re telling me.”

“And then! Oh my god, this has been happening all week…”

Blaine continues to go on about the other New Directions, and how Kurt expected him to fly to New York to watch his band perform at a bar and then yelled at Blaine. Blaine, who got detention for no reason from Sue, and if he skipped, it would go on his permanent record. Sebastian is heavily considering taking that plane voucher and giving Kurt a piece of his mind, really.

“Well, first of all, the permanent record is a myth,” Sebastian starts. “And second, Kurt has no right to yell at you like that for not being able to go drop everything to go watch his shitty band perform at a dive bar.”

Blaine is quiet, and Sebastian’s just starting to think he said the wrong thing to try and ease Blaine’s feelings, but—”I just feel like I’m losing Kurt to New York all over again. And I don’t particularly feel _close_ with anyone else, like I’m hiding under this great big facade of trying to juggle all these things at once.”

Sebastian will think later about how, while admitting his feelings to Sebastian on the phone, Blaine simultaneously says he doesn’t feel close with anyone. Sebastian’s noticed this trend regarding Blaine, where he’ll bottle everything up so tight and close to his chest until it all explodes out because he feels like it’s easier. That’s not to say Sebastian doesn’t do something similar, but Blaine is an emotional person. He _wants_ to wear his heart on his sleeve. But everyone around him makes him feel like that’s an unwanted and impossible task, so he tucks it away.

“I think you deserve a break, then,” Sebastian says. “If that means sitting back and listening to the others more, do it, as insufferable as it might be. You’re a natural-born leader, Blaine, and I can safely say not one Warbler has called you bossy in my time here.”

“There was a council there, though. _Order_ was implied.”

“So make a system. You have everything it takes to be a leader, I think you’re just too focused on holding on tight.”

Blaine sighs, long and loud, which makes Sebastian smirk to himself. “Thanks.”

“Always a pleasure.”

•••

 **Sebastian:** _congrats, valedictorian_

 **Blaine:** _How’d you find out about that???_

Sebastian laughs, sitting at the long table at the front of Warbler’s rehearsal. The Warblers are trickling in slowly for rehearsal—a conversation about which songs to sing at this year’s graduation looming over them all, especially the seniors—and Jeff casts him a glance as he walks past to sit in his self-designated spot.

 **Sebastian:** _tina’s finsta ranted and raved about it like, all last night. she just kind of lets anyone follow her._

 **Sebastian:** _i’m pretty sure she didn’t even notice it was me when i requested_

“What’s going on with you?” Jeff finally pipes up, and Sebastian quirks an eyebrow as he finishes the text.

“I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re being nicer lately. Like, suspiciously so.”

Sebastian sighs and places his phone face-down on the table. Folds his hands neatly in front of him, and leans over the table. “Need I remind you, bottle blonde, I turned over a new leaf after this entire group, _yourself included_ , went off the deep end, resorted to blackmail, and made me the face of teen envy in every county of Ohio.”

Jeff shrinks in on himself a bit, and Sebastian leans back, decides to double back. “Look, I’m just trying to focus during these last few weeks. I’m in the top ten percent of the graduating class, I’m ending on a high with the Warblers despite everything. I have to gear up for Columbia in the fall, I’m not wasting anymore time.”

More, if not the rest, of the group seem to have trickled in during his speech, and only then does Sebastian realize that—

“You didn’t say you got into Columbia, dude,” Jon says, and the entire choir room erupts.

Suddenly everyone’s on their feet and cheering, Jon is clapping Sebastian on the back, Jeff springs up to get in there for a hug, and Sebastian can’t help the giddy laughter that spills out. It’s the remnants of that lurking fear that everyone still resented him for everything that went down, or he’s made no impressions on anyone except anger and distrust. _God_ , he’s been working so hard to go out of the way for the Warblers in his own way, whether it be keeping them active in the show choir scene after Regionals, or being people’s sounding board for snarky comebacks or public protection—but it’s good to know it’s paid off. Trent stands up on the table to attract everyone’s attention.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that this calls for a celebratory solo.”

Trent’s beaming (curse his sunshiney ways), the underclassmen are watching him with wide-eyed wonder, his fellow seniors are practically shaking with excitement.

“I thought we said _I_ did all the talking, Nixon?”

It’s the song intended to be Sebastian’s senior song at their Spring concert, [“Change in My Life” by Hanson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTvIAUiwaHo); he’s been arranging and working on it with the rest of the team for the past few weeks anyway, so he hands his phone off to Trent (the easiest to convince to sit out, especially with their excess of tenors for some reason) so he can make sure it sounds perfect for the end of year concert. Fits with the theme of change, and all that jazz. Plus, the key changes are a blast, and despite the fact that they should be singing along, half the Warblers opt for whooping and hollering more than not. The Warblers cheer as he finishes, and his face hurts from smiling when he takes his bow.

“Thank you guys. I’m...actually intending on doing dance and business in college,” he says, and ignores the pleading look one of the sophomores gives him, “but I don’t know how to express how grateful I am for this group. Even you, shortstop.”

Nick flips him off, but Sebastian looks over to where Trent lowers his phone and checks the video.

“Trent, you wanna lead us in picking our graduation performance?”

Trent shoves the phone into Sebastian’s hand and sets off to the chalkboard to write down their top three contenders for songs. Some of the members come over to pat and congratulate Sebastian on the news, but Sebastian’s looking down at his phone. Because Trent has taken it upon himself to shoot the video to Blaine, and when he looks up, Trent shoots him a grin. He feels the need to justify himself, or explain that Trent stole his phone, or something, but Trent calls for a group vote, and it requires his attention. Oh, he is so going to rip him a new one for this.

Close to the end of rehearsal, when the group is mostly just riffing and dancing to one-up each other, Sebastian’s phone starts buzzing in his blazer pocket, and he excuses himself to the hallway before pulling it out and answering.

“Hey, Killer.”

“God am I glad you’re not competing with us for Nationals this year.”

Sebastian barks a surprised laugh. “What a backhanded compliment.”

“Bas, I’m serious, that was _incredible_.”

“Thanks, I guess Trent felt the need to send it to you.”

“Well he was absolutely right. What was the occasion?”

“Oh, well, that’s my song for our senior show, which of course you’re invited to. And I...got into Columbia.”

Blaine leans away from the phone to cheer, and Sebastian chuckles to himself, eyes following a few Warblers as they walk out of the room. 

“Sebastian, that’s awesome! Oh, you’re going to crush it there. Man, Ohio takes New York, huh? So many talented singers in one place. I’ll destroy you in any auditions.”

The other seniors leave the room and silently beckon for him to join them at the coffee shop, Thad holding his bag out for him to grab. 

“I’m actually going for dance and business,” he says after a beat, following a step behind the other Warblers, “so no worries, I won’t be stepping on your toes.”

“Damn, a Columbia double major. I’m thrilled for you, Sebastian.”

Trent spins around to give him this wide-eyed, almost scandalized look, and Sebastian swats him away. “Thanks, Killer. That one’s going into the spank bank for sure.”

Blaine laughs, and Sebastian’s smirk comes easily. “Look, I’ve got to run. But wherever you applied, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Bas. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Your ass looks great today,” he says, and hangs up mid-Blaine protest. Trent, bless his stupid little round face, sidles up next to him and slaps his shoulder.

“He has a fiancé,” he so helpfully says, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“We're friends.”

The two of them fall quiet as they wait on line with the other seniors. He knows what he just said, they both know how his friendship with Blaine went over a year ago. Their part friendship _did_ hurt someone, the same someone that he was just talking to, actually. But Sebastian liked to think he’s different now—life feels easier to trek through now, honestly. He rekindled his relationship with his father after an icy year, he’s been a tad bit nicer to the people around him, he’s even gone back to therapy a handful of times. He’s been busy and he feels good about it.

Nick pushes a cup of coffee into his hand with a smile. “Our treat.”

“Jeez guys, I’m glad you could kick a few nickels my way.”

Sebastian lets himself get absorbed in their conversation, ends up sitting back a bit and just watching them over his coffee. There’s a familiarity he never thought he’d end up loving, let alone being allowed back into; he could’ve lost so much, but he somehow is better off for it. They say that bad times will lead into great times, but really, who were they trying to fool with that one? And sure, Blaine may have a _fiancé,_ but Sebastian never thought Blaine would ever glance his way again, let alone become one of his best friends again.

Maybe he can shake those god damn _feelings_ off at Columbia. The pickings in Ohio are wearing a little thin nowadays.

•••

 **Blaine:** _We came in second._

Sebastian knows. He knows, simply because of the show choir forums blew up as soon as the news dropped, and Sebastian’s been refreshing them like crazy. Also, because said forums had a bootleg link up immediately, and Sebastian pretty much called it from downtown.

You have to be a special kind of crazy to go from Styx to OneRepublic, and so _smoothly_.

Honestly, Sebastian half-expected one of the New Directions to accuse him of knowing Jean-Baptiste, simply because they were both French. He wouldn’t put it past them at all.

Even with all the heart New Directions could muster, all the pain and emotion from a devastating year, all of Finn Hudson’s favorite songs, they never stood a chance. Songs from the eighties will do that to a club.

He doesn’t say any of that, though. In fact, he considers not replying and facing the consequences tomorrow. Blaine probably has other people to tell, teammates to comfort, songs to sing all teary-eyed and draped over a piano for no good reason. But he sighs and picks up his phone, thumbs hovering for a good minute as he tries to find the words.

 **Sebastian:** _im sure you gave it your all. as long as you can say you did your best._

 **Sebastian:** _besides, second at nationals is nothing to scoff at_

Sebastian types something, stares at it for a few moments.

 **Sebastian:** _im here if you need an unbiased person to talk to_

He deletes the message, and sets the phone aside.

A few days later, Sebastian gets a call from Blaine when Blaine should, in theory, be just leaving Glee club. Not that that's something Sebastian keeps track of, or anything.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Sebastian says as he answers, and he grins at Blaine's chuckle on the other end.

"I just wanted to update you, Jean-Baptiste returned the Finn plaque."

Sebastian had, honestly, forgotten that that was even a problem that was occurring. "Oh, that's great."

He pauses for a moment, to coerce Blaine into talking more. It's a dirty trick Sebastian learned early on in their friendship—Blaine has a lot to say if you leave some open space for him to talk. McKinley doesn't really seem to give him the time of day.

"It just got me thinking about...everything that happened last year. It's rare that you come across a bully with a moral code, you know? Not that I think you're a bully or anything—"

Despite the knot twisting itself in his stomach, Sebastian smiles. "No, I get it. I was a huge asshole to you."

Blaine sighs a laugh. "I realized I never formally accepted your apology. I just kind of started using you as another outlet for things happening in my life, y'know?"

"You're not using me, B. I'm happy to help."

Sebastian stabs his pen hard into the notebook in front of him and tilts his head toward the ceiling.

"I forgive you, for everything. And thank you for being around for me."

The knot in his stomach has dissolved into happy butterflies—something that he honestly thought was a silly trope in romantic comedies. "You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that."

"No spank bank," Blaine says quickly, and Sebastian's loud laugh catches him completely off-guard.

"No promises."

•••

Freshman year of college flies by faster than he can blink. He never believed his family when they said that the four years speed by. Winter in New York is biting cold, coats the dorms in more snow than Sebastian’s frankly willing to put up with. He gets sick, like clockwork, this time right before he has to make the trek to France for two weeks to visit the rest of his family. Christmas comes and goes without too much fuss, New Year’s is spent at home in Ohio, and he ships back to his dorm shortly after. The spring semester is uneventful, more of the same he’s been used to for quite some time—tests, auditions, performances, studying. He makes friends, he goes out, his roommate is only a little bit crazy. 

The Warblers in his year keep in touch pretty regularly. If any of them happen to find themselves in New York City, they all get together. A particularly memorable outing involved Nick, Jeff, and a popular drag bar all cheering as they try and drink each other under the table. Sebastian still has the queens’ numbers in his phone.

He and Blaine don’t run into each other. They live on opposite sides of the city, and Sebastian works pretty hard not to make a habit of ending up in Bushwick where, last time he checked, most of the New Directions lived. They text occasionally, mundane updates about life at NYADA, or Kurt, or whatever it is that happens to be on his mind that day. Sebastian doesn’t have the time to think about it too much, and it seems like Blaine doesn’t either.

Some time in the Spring, Sebastian gets a call from his father.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Sebastian says as he answers, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continues his work.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Curtis asks, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“You don’t really call me unless it’s an emergency or you forgot the WiFi password.”

His father makes a noise of agreement, to which Sebastian smiles to himself. It’s a weird relationship, but it works for them. “Fair enough. Listen, are you familiar with June Dolloway?”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Well, every year she hosts a showcase for some new up-and-comer that she finds on a street corner or whatever she does. And I got an invitation, which I wasn’t surprised about in the least. But what _did_ surprise me, Sebastian, is that the kid is that Blaine you knew in high school.”

Sebastian stops writing mid-sentence and stares, blankly, at the space above his desk. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m amazed you didn’t hear about it, don’t you two still keep in touch?”

Sebastian pulls his phone out of his ear, puts it on speaker, and pulls out his conversation with Blaine, which has been left untouched for the past few weeks. “Yeah, a bit, I guess.”

“ _Mon dieu_ , Sebastian, what do you mean ‘You guess’?”

Sebastian hums in agreement, which they both know means he’s not listening.

 **Sebastian:** _how come my dad had to be the one to tell me that you’re having a showcase with june dolloway???_

“Are you going?”

“Well, my son is in New York, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

Sebastian puts his phone back to his ear. “I’m intrigued by this son of yours.”

Curtis laughs. “Oh, he’s just delightful. Would you want to come with me to the event? Everyone has a plus one.”

“What happened to your latest side piece?”

“Don’t be rude. Gabrielle doesn’t like flying. I don’t feel like arguing with her.” Curtis doesn’t sound too upset about it all.

“Shame,” Sebastian mutters. “I’ll get back to you on the invite, alright?”

They say their goodbyes, and maybe half an hour later, a text comes back from Blaine.

 **Blaine:** _Sorry, I’ve been so busy between it and school! Must’ve slipped my mind._

 **Sebastian:** _pretty big slip if you ask me_

It’s not a few seconds later when the call from Blaine comes in. Like clockwork.

“Hey, I really am sorry I haven’t said much lately,” Blaine says, his voice low, and a door opens on the other end.

“You sneaking out or something?” Sebastian teases, and he can hear a siren go by in the distance.

“No, just,” Blaine sighs. “On top of the showcase there’s this...this _woman_ who’s following Rachel around and writing about all of us and her life and I needed the excuse to get out of there. I said you were my dentist.”

“It’s a shame. We have to pull out all your teeth.” Sebastian smiles at the gentle laugh Blaine gives on the other end of the phone. It sounds like he needed it. “Is her life that interesting outside of ‘Funny Girl’?”

“Apparently. But, seriously, about June, I’m not really sure how it happened either, but it did. How’d your dad know?”

“Well, even big money in Ohio, with enough of a foot in the door in New York, gets invitations apparently.”

Blaine gasps. “Oh my, am I going to be performing for _the_ Curtis Smythe?”

“Possibly the Sebastian too.”

Blaine goes quiet for a moment, and he knows something is wrong. Blaine clears his throat, and his voice sounds further away from the phone for a moment. “Yeah, no, I’ll be right in.”

“The mistress beckons you?” Sebastian chuckles, and Blaine gives a soft huff.

“I’m so glad I don’t live here anymore.”

“What?” Sebastian sits up. “You don’t?”

“Bas, I’ve got to run—but you should come to the event. I’m sure Kurt and the rest of us would love to catch up. Text you later!”

Blaine hangs up, and Sebastian is almost positive he and Blaine don’t exist in the same realm of reality. In what world would Kurt _want_ to catch up with him? How do you just _happen_ to become friends with someone of that status? Why is Rachel getting a TV show if she’s already on Broadway? None of it makes any sense, but then again, a lot about Blaine doesn’t. He drums his pen on the notebook, and texts his father that he’ll be going with him.

The hall the event is hosted in is bathed in a golden hue that miraculously makes everyone look a little more intimidating. Amongst the big names of old New York money is Sebastian, along with a handful of what looks to be bright-eyed hopefuls who get paid to work the event. The small, round tables are spaced out evenly, four or five to each, all facing forward and not each other. An expensive-looking bouquet of flowers (Sebastian didn’t even know flowers could look expensive) sits in the middle of each table. The suit he’s wearing, one of the only ones he’s kept with him in New York, is a dark grey, the tie a light green from Curtis’ personal collection. He’s glad he never gave in and bought the typical black suit combination, otherwise he’d _really_ look like every other guy in the room. Curtis parades him around for a while, introducing him to people who claim to have met Sebastian when he was _this tall_ , even though they both should know that Sebastian doesn’t remember it.

When Sebastian can finally take a glance around, he notices a table up front and center, filled with whichever New Directions happen to be in New York this week. Luckily, his father guides him to a table towards the back left, and they take a seat as a piano starts the first notes of a song.

By the time they get to “No Time At All” from Pippin, Sebastian has eaten enough expensive food for the next three weeks. The song, among the others, is an odd choice that, apparently, only he clocks to be one. Sebastian supposes it’s functioning as a way to get people to “start living and look at this man!”, but with Blaine singing and tinkering on the piano alongside June, he’s sure that people are just eating it up. And how can they not? Blaine, in his crushed velvet suit jacket, all prim and proper, dancing around with June like they’ve known each other forever. It’s endearing, and Sebastian’s not surprised one bit when the audience starts chiming in when required.

Blaine catches his eye as he walks to the table of his friends to start rousing them to sing. Sebastian doesn’t have much time to react outside of a smile, which is perfectly fine for Sebastian. He’s happy for Blaine. Blaine is clearly happy. That’s all a good friend could ask for.

Well, that doesn’t mean he likes Kurt any more than he used to, though. When Sebastian looks at June for a reaction, June looks like exactly how he feels to see Kurt sidle up to Blaine—annoyed beyond belief. It’s classic Kurt to butt himself into anything that Blaine does (sure, Blaine gives this _rousing_ speech about passion and his fiance, but Sebastian takes a long drink of the wine placed in front of him by a sympathetic young waitress rather than listen), and it’s classic Blaine to place his entire existence and talent as a person as being completely attached to Kurt and his relationship. Someone needs to slap Blaine upside the head and make him realize his worth is so much greater than what he thinks it is. And it’s completely independent of his relationship with Kurt.

June gets up to start dancing with the happy couple, the traitor, and Sebastian downs his wine. Time for a party, indeed.

Or, the rich people idea of a party, which is leaning against a wall and half-participating in a conversation about financials that Sebastian, unfortunately, understands. It goes on like this for a while, Sebastian is pleasantly on his way to a nice wine drunk, and _finally_ the man of the hour slides up to say hello to everyone in the circle, starting next to Sebastian and finally landing on him.

“Have we met?” Blaine teases, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Sebastian makes a face.

“Unclear.”

Blaine goes in for the hug, one arm over Sebastian’s, leaning up into it. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Well, a night honoring Blaine Anderson doesn’t just slip under my radar.”

Blaine jabs a thumb over his shoulder, and Sebastian follows it over to where the New Directions are chatting idly. “Do you want to come say hi?”

“Oh, no, I probably shouldn’t,” Sebastian chuckles, and Blaine drops his hand. Sebastian’s eyes flick appreciatively down the front of Blaine—he looks good, fitter than he used to. Maybe those dance classes at NYADA are nothing to sneeze at after all.

“Right. Of course. I’d love to stay and chat, but—”

“Duty calls. Charming everyone into hiring you is no easy task, even someone with your looks.”

Sebastian smirks. Blaine rolls his eyes. Just like old times.

Blaine disappears, and Sebastian grits his teeth together as he watches Blaine trot around again. The last handful of times Sebastian’s gotten a call, it’s been cut off by Blaine before he could get a word in about his own life. Not that he’s _seeking_ a place to admit all his deepest feelings, but the more often it happens, the more he feels like just some place for Blaine to dump his emotions before he faces his “real friends”, so he doesn’t burden them. It stings a little more when it’s in person.

After a few moments, he pushes himself off the wall to head towards the circle where the waiters are all talking. The woman who gave him a glass of wine earlier smiles and beckons him into the group. The four of them talk about which rich people would be the easiest to pickpocket while still getting away with a lot of money. Sebastian’s back is turned towards most of the party, so a shorter guy in front of him has to clear his throat and nod his head past Sebastian to make him turn around.

Unfortunately, Rachel Berry has stormed up with her entire posse. Sebastian can’t help but smirk. “Can I help you?”

“Who let you in here? Did you sneak in just to try and sabotage Blaine’s night? Because I’ll have you know that he is happily engaged and I can and will call the cops if you tried anything tonight—”

“Woah, okay, Tiny Tim, take a breath,” Sebastian chuckles, and Rachel stands up straight and folds her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Shouldn’t you be on vocal rest for your Broadway show? Or did you give that one up already, too.”

Mercedes starts saying something, but Sebastian glances over them to his father, who is watching this go down like he’s watching a tennis match, cup halfway to his lips. When they make eye contact, Sebastian raises an eyebrow, and he starts walking over.

“...and who the hell are you looking at, anyway?” Mercedes finishes, but Sebastian holds out an arm as Curtis walks up.

“This is my father, Curtis Smythe. Dad, these are a couple of the people I knew in high school.”

Curtis puts on his fakest smile. Like father like son, or so they say. “It’s lovely to meet all of you. I was just coming over to tell Sebastian that we’d be leaving soon.”

“Because we were invited, just like the rest of you,” Sebastian finishes, giving the crew in front of him a polite smile. “The show was lovely. I think you should try letting go of the past, don’t you?”

Sebastian slips out from between the two groups of people and heads towards the exit with his father. He doesn’t get to say goodbye to Blaine, but he figures that the New Directions will try and claim he was an asshole to them, which he can smooth out another time.

If he were looking as he left, he’d see Rachel head back to Blaine to start that conversation. He’d notice Blaine watching him go, an almost sad look on his face, until Kurt pulls him out of it. But he doesn’t, and instead laughs with his father on the way out on the bizarre confrontation.

The next day, Blaine calls him on his way to meet his father for breakfast at his hotel.

“You could’ve been nicer to my friends, you know.”

“Well, they could’ve been nicer to me. I don’t respond kindly to Rachel accusing me of things.”

Blaine sighs. “ _Sebastian_.”

“I’m serious! Look, I don’t care that they don’t know we’re friends. My life completely doesn’t concern them, and theirs doesn’t concern mine.” Sebastian puts his phone down to jog across the street, and puts it back. “But it would be nice to get more than five minutes of your time every few weeks.”

“I can’t help it, Bas, you of all people should know that—”

“I get it, you’re New York’s favorite wunderkind, and Kurt’s favorite accessory.” Sebastian’s not sure why he’s feeling fighty this morning, but he leans into it. “I’m not going to let you treat me like some person you know that you can just throw away whenever you feel like it. I’m happy to hear about your life Blaine, but not if you can’t do the same.”

“What do you want to talk about, then?”

“Nothing, Blaine.” Sebastian sighs and turns a corner.

“So why are you bringing this up? We’re friends, Sebastian, we should be able to talk about things.”

“This isn’t a friendship. This is a fucking therapy session with a therapist you’re too ashamed to admit you’re seeing.” A passing car honks at Sebastian as he runs across the street.

Blaine’s quiet when he answers. “I’m sorry, I never noticed.”

“Yeah, well,” Sebastian stops in front of the hotel his father is staying at, looking around at the crowd. “I have to go meet my dad for breakfast.”

He hangs up without a goodbye.

Sebastian half-expects Blaine to be waiting by his door with an apology when he comes back to his apartment. The apartment itself is nothing to write home about—it’s modest for what New York costs, and his father purchased it pretty quickly as an investment into Sebastian’s future. They’re both lucky he actually likes the city. The space exists in mostly warm colors, a light wood floor with dark grey walls, windows that open up to a less-than-ideal view out into the city (or, really, a closeby building and their parking lot). The rest of the apartment exists, mostly, in monochrome, scattered around with belongings that Sebastian never could quite figure out a place for. A dark grey couch, which used to belong to Curtis until he decided to redecorate, faces an average-sized TV, on which there are a mess of bright, mis-matched pillows and, Sebastian’s personal favorite, a burgundy shaggy blanket.

It’s lived-in, comfortable. Sebastian did have a roommate his freshman year, but the two of them had a rather tumultuous split over rent that Sebastian is, honestly, grateful for. Sebastian always clicks the TV on close to when he walks in, just to fill the space with some noise other than his own thoughts.

Sebastian’s instincts are not too far off though, because he’s just wrapping up his dinner when his buzzer sounds. He doesn’t have to check to see that it’s Blaine, just sends him up, and waits for the knock on the door.

“It’s open!”

There’s a few more beats before Blaine opens the door, shamelessly looking around before landing on Sebastian in the kitchen, where he’s over the sink washing dishes.

“You escaped for the night,” Sebastian jokes, not looking up from the sink.

Blaine sighs. “Can we talk?”

Sebastian lifts a soapy hand to gesture towards the couch. Blaine looks over and, no doubt, wonders why the TV is on some kitschy reality show.

Sebastian lets Blaine sit for a few minutes so he can finish his dishes, just to let him stew in it for a bit. He’s not exactly over being upset—honestly, he doesn’t even really feel like Blaine’s using him that much. But he feels _used_ , Blaine’s even said it before, and sometimes these things are just better out in the open.

He takes the long way around the couch to sit far from Blaine, tossing an arm over the side of the couch. Blaine takes the first leap.

“I really am sorry if I made you feel like I used you. It’s rare for me to just have someone to openly talk to who doesn’t already have their biases, so I guess I took advantage of it when it came.”

Sebastian chews on the inside of his lip, contemplating the words. It feels like a very weird reversal of where they might’ve been two years ago, and he has to admit, he’s not a fan. As much as he wants to escape the discomfort as fast as he can, as he tends to do, Blaine’s not that type of person.

“It’s alright,” Sebastian says slowly, “we’re both very busy, college isn’t easy. I don’t even have that much to update you on whenever you call, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

He does know. He wants to ask if Blaine even cares about him, even a little bit. They both know that Blaine has to be ashamed of being his friend, deep down—or his New York friends would know that they’ve been talking since his senior year of high school, that they’ve sorted things out long ago. Blaine must know how to read Sebastian, because he inches closer on the couch and rests his hand on top of Sebastian’s, on the back of the couch.

“I’m really glad we’re friends, Sebastian. You’ve been there for me for a whole lot, and I’d never be able to thank you for doing that for me. You could’ve told me to fuck off, and I would’ve.”

Sebastian chuckles, and fights the urge to flip his hand over to take Blaine in his own. 

“I’m...sorry I’ve been basically hiding you from my friends,” Blaine continues. “I think I always assumed it was something we both wanted.”

“I do like not having to deal with them on a regular basis,” Sebastian interjects, and Blaine rolls his eyes and slides his hand off Sebastian’s.

“I’m gonna try harder.”

“I will too. Especially now that I’ve learned that I can tell you to fuck off.”

Blaine laughs and turns to the TV. “Now will you _please_ explain to me why you’re watching Real Housewives?”

Sebastian looks over, and sure enough, apparently he’s watching Real Housewives of New Jersey. “I just turn the TV on for noise.”

“I’m not complaining,” Blaine says, and makes himself comfortable by tugging the blanket off the couch to wrap it around his shoulders. “ _And_ I’m not expected home until later.”

Sebastian watches Blaine, amused, as Blaine takes the rest of the blanket and tucks himself into it completely.

•••

The semester ends and summer rolls around fast, as it always does. Sebastian isn’t particularly thrilled with staying in the city for another summer, but summer dance programs at Columbia and an internship on top don’t really leave him much room to stray. The two couldn’t be any different—on days he’s not at a dance studio, he’s in an office building, consulting bankers on their investments. He doesn’t hate it, which doesn’t surprise him. Sebastian supposes he geared himself for a pretty boring job, since the odds of dance taking him anywhere particularly thrilling are low.

He spends a lot of time in the park. He heavily considers getting a dog, but ultimately decides against it until the future. And his apartment has pet rent that he doesn’t want to deal with. He sees some of his high school friends if they come visit, he spends time outside the studio with a couple of his classmates who are also doing the summer programs. His air conditioning goes out for a particularly memorable week, and he was convinced he would die in a puddle in the middle of his floor.

He and Blaine don’t talk a bunch, but it’s a decent enough constant. They text more often than anything else, and it seems like Kurt has big summer plans for them, because if Sebastian asks to meet up (which he does, three times), Blaine always has something else planned for his day. Blaine makes it up to him by calling him shortly thereafter, and listening while Sebastian talks through the mundanities of his desk job. Blaine talks about little things that he and Kurt try to do together, or stories about the other Lima people and how they’re ruining their lives this week.

Towards the end of the summer, Rachel’s awful show is set to premiere, and Sebastian calls whichever closeby Warblers to come and watch it at his apartment. Nick, Jeff, and Thad all show up the day before, alcohol in tow, and they all spend time planning an elaborate drinking game to the pilot that is bound to kill them within the first ten minutes.

It’s absolutely horrible, and the four of them barely make it to the ten minute mark before they have to adjust the rules so they don’t end up with alcohol poisoning. A chorus of fake gags rings out from the others as knockoff-Kurt makes a weird, “feeding his worm to a Warbler” joke that, much like the rest of the show, is completely off-base. Sebastian laughs from behind his drink, and both the show and the night are forgotten to time.

The long days of summer melt into a crisp fall, which Sebastian wants to bask in forever. New York could bear to have more trees around, but everything from the color palette warming the city at its edges, all the way to the seasonal flavors at the coffee shop Sebastian visits make this season his absolute favorite. He spends what time he can, between classes, doing his work outside, and nobody is too surprised to see him sitting at a table studying away. Sophomore kicks off fast and hard.

It’s not even seven p.m. when he gets a call that successfully interrupts his warm-up music blasting through the studio’s speakers. He groans and drops his leg off the bar, jogging over to his phone and...hesitates, when he sees it’s from Blaine.

These calls have been pretty few and far between lately, although Sebastian dismisses it as both of them being off to the races in their sophomore year. He’ll admit he’s thought about it, though. On rare occasions, Sebastian will have a couple texts after his particularly strenuous Modern III class. Now, though, his thumb hovers over ‘Answer’, and he takes a breath as he presses it.

“Long time no speak, Killer.”

It sounds like Blaine takes a shuddering breath on the other side, and his voice sounds pinched. “Am I interrupting something?”

Curse Blaine and his vice grip on him. He should practice that one move he couldn’t nail in class earlier that day, his instructor told him as much, but instead he’s sitting down, back against the wall mirror. 

“No, no, don’t worry about it. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Blaine talks for a while. It sounds like he hasn’t actually talked to anyone about this in full detail: Kurt breaking off their engagement, their inability to live together, competition and control issues and a lack of emotional vulnerability to top it all off. Sebastian honestly could’ve told you as much even though the last time he saw Kurt was in passing at the showcase, and he was positive Kurt didn’t even register him at all. 

“I’m just thinking about packing it all up and moving back to Ohio. Dalton’s thinking about hiring a coach.”

“Woah, woah, woah, okay,” Sebastian finally says, pushing himself to stand and starting to pace the room, “there is no way you’re going back to that dump.”

“It’s just...everything here reminds me of Kurt.”

“Well clearly you have to get out of Bushwick. I mean, seriously, _Bushwick_ , I don’t care how cheap the loft was, it is not worth putting up with all those ragers on Tuesday nights.”

Blaine gives a wet laugh, and Sebastian glances at the clock on the wall. He has the space for an hour and a half, and it takes maybe half an hour to take the subway from NYADA to Columbia—

“It sounds like you have to make some new New York memories. I’m going to text you the studio’s address, because I will finish this rehearsal hell or highwater, and then we’re going to have a good time.”

“Bas—”

“No, I am not taking no for an answer. You can, I don’t know, serenade me by the piano like you tend to do.”

Blaine laughs. “Alright, alright, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll be there.”

Sebastian hangs up and shoots the address to Blaine, and when he looks up, he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. He, for the first time in years, looks happy. For a moment, he doesn’t recognize the person looking back at him there—and he’s actually been quite nice to the people at Columbia, thank you very much. It finally feels like this weight has been taken off his shoulders. There’s no pressure to act a certain way, or put up any walls, because people don’t know his past. He doesn’t have a ton of close friends, no, but his life doesn’t feel any less complete because of it. Sure, maybe he pushes people away just a little bit, a force of old habit and a sneaking suspicion that if he lets people too close, bad things will just come along for the ride. 

He’s in the middle of choreography when he spots Blaine appear in the doorframe silently, and he lets himself smile. As expected, the sap applauds when Sebastian finishes up, and Sebastian turns to him and takes a bow.

“Thank you, thank you,” Sebastian laughs, and waves him into the room before he goes to turn off the music on his phone.

“Columbia looks good on you,” Blaine says as he moves into the room, and makes eye contact with Sebastian in the mirror.

“Made me flexible, too,” Sebastian smirks. “I’d be happy to show you any time.”

Blaine does a full-body eyeroll, and Sebastian busies himself with his phone so he doesn’t have to admit how nice it is to see without any upheld social expectations for the two of them. Damn, seriously, what is _up_ with him?

“Was that your idea of a ‘New New York memory’?” Blaine says, accentuated with air quotes, and sits himself down on the piano bench as anticipated. Sebastian moved his clothes specifically for it.

“As tempting of an offer that is,” Sebastian chuckles, and puts his phone down. “Like I said, I’m going to finish this rehearsal. And you’ve got options. One, I haven’t eaten yet, and I make a mean carbonara. Or, two, if you’re not comfortable with going home with me, we can hit my favorite dollar pizza place and strut around Upper Manhattan until we find something interesting.”

When he turns to look at Blaine, he’s got this...sad, almost half-constipated look on his face.

“This isn’t some scheme or anything, by the way, I know your friends might think otherwise still, and if I have to start begging again, I have developed a little more shame than that—”

“No, no, hey,” Blaine interrupts, “No, I trust you. It’s just...been awhile since someone has talked to me like a person. I feel like everyone’s handling me with gloves, they’re so scared to like. _Break_ me or something. And it’s always about how they loved Kurt and I together, and I’ll be okay.”

Blaine rests his fingers on the piano, plays a few random chords, and pauses. “I think people expect me to be worse than I am.”

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek, argues with himself for a few moments, and moves close to rest a hand on Blaine’s shoulder.

“You did threaten to move back to Ohio. Which would mean dropping out of school at NYADA, and your friendship with June Dolloway, for some little show choir full of burgeoning gays.”

Blaine laughs, the sound rumbles in his whole body and Sebastian can feel it where he’s got his hand on him. There’s some deep-seeded part of him that wishes Blaine were the rebound type. And who knows, the new Blaine easily could be. He drops his hand as Blaine speaks.

“I think those were just empty threats, honestly. Just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to laugh incredulously. “You’ve still got it, Blaine Warbler. Come on, play me Katy Perry’s latest hit so we can get out of here.”

There’s nothing normal about this situation, but somehow it feels completely natural. Blaine is tinkering around on the piano while Sebastian goes through the motions for his Modern performance (which, honestly, doesn’t exactly work with anything One Direction, but he’s not going to tell Blaine that), occasionally chatting about something, usually about how the move looked _fine_ , let it go, or Blaine trying to coerce Sebastian into a duet. When the hour comes to a close, Sebastian grabs his towel off the piano and wipes his forehead.

“Come on,” Blaine tries, for probably the twelfth time that night.

Sebastian sighs a laugh. “I’m not singing with you.”

“My fiance just broke up with me.”

Blaine’s smirking at him, and Sebastian has always had a weak spot clearly labelled “Blaine Anderson” that he can’t seem to shake. He wipes the back of his neck and fakes a glare at Blaine’s puppy-dog eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re pulling the guilt card on me.”

Blaine shrugs, and starts playing the introduction to “Something There”, and Sebastian drops his mouth open in a scandalized gasp.

“ _And_ the _Beauty and the Beast_ card? I regret telling you that.”

Any laughter is disrupted by Blaine launching into song. Sebastian suspects that this is something that wins him arguments, but only if he’s by a piano.

 _There's something sweet and almost kind_ _  
_ _But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined_ _  
_ _And now he's dear and so I'm sure_ _  
_ _I wonder why I didn't see it there before_

A past Sebastian said that singing with Blaine was a dream, one that he never got to chase because of every stupid thing that haunted them in high school. By God, does he get it though. This is the Blaine that the Warblers worshipped what feels like ages ago, and probably still do. He’s confident when he’s belting out a song, especially a corny pop song from a few years ago. Sebastian’s heart feels full, and if he were a different man, he would hop up onto the piano to sing his verses. Instead, he leans against it with a fond grin, and Blaine makes hopeful eye contact with him to get Sebastian to chime in.

 _He glanced this way, I thought I saw_ _  
_ _And when we touched she didn't shudder at my paw_ _  
_ _No, it can't be, I'll just ignore_ _  
_ _But then she's never looked at me that way before_

Blaine has a giant, shit-eating grin on his face, and Sebastian ventures to reach an arm out to shove Blaine playfully. This is the man who got one of the biggest names in the New York rich and famous to boast him to every single famous person she knows. This is the man who rallied a bunch of sworn enemy show choirs together because he wanted to make a statement about gay marriage. This is the man who, for some godforsaken reason, raided a Gap with the Warblers to serenade a man who led him on for a day or two. A bold, confident _role model_ , and Sebastian’s heart is pounding happily away in his chest as he watches him, and they finish out the song.

Blaine’s grinning as he smooths his hands over the keys, and Sebastian takes the moment to offer a quick round of applause. 

“You know, it’s silly, but I,” Blaine breathes, still catching his breath, “I haven’t really played that much music in the past few weeks. Thanks.”

“Considering you sidearmed me into singing with you, and you made me Beast, I didn’t even notice.” Sebastian moves to start gathering his things, pulling on his sweatshirt and jacket, and when he looks back up, Blaine’s next to him.

“It kind of makes me sad you don’t sing anymore,” he says as the two of them head for the door.

“My shower gets some prime Warbler concert material.” Sebastian gives a lopsided grin as he hitches his bag over his shoulder.

“Speaking of, there’s something that’s always bothered me.” Sebastian hums, and Blaine jabs a finger at him. “Why was the door to the Warbler office unlocked? It’s never unlocked.”

Sebastian huffs a laugh and crams his hands into his pockets shortly after hitting the lights in the studio. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Blaine shoots him a look. “And only the captains have keys to that room.”

“I think you should spend less time watching conspiracy shows.”

Blaine jabs an elbow into Sebastian’s side. “Thanks for helping.”

“You’re welcome.”

They talk all the way back to Sebastian’s apartment. Continue through Sebastian cooking dinner, and the movie on Netflix that has something to do with cheerleading. The movie’s been over for quite some time, and the lulls in their conversation have gotten longer, but Sebastian doesn’t have the heart to remind Blaine of the time and send him on his merry way. 

“What do you think you’ll do after college?”

Sebastian blows a breath through his lips and lifts his head up to glare at Blaine when he makes eye contact. “Really just going for the throat, huh?”

Blaine shoves at Sebastian’s knee. They’re not quite touching, but Sebastian can feel the warmth of his leg ghosting against his own when he settles back into place.

“Man, I don’t know, business is kind of vague,” he continues, “ideally something that makes a lot of money, like consulting or some bank job. Get money, get out after a few years, pursue something more exciting.”

“Obviously,” Blaine chimes in, and Sebastian tears his eyes away from Blaine’s face. If he looks any longer, he’ll start analyzing the looks Blaine’s giving him, and he really can’t afford that right now. Not while Blaine’s still there.

Speaking of, Blaine must look at his phone, because he curses under his breath and hops up off the couch. “Crap, I should head back. Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course,” Sebastian mutters as he pushes himself up, suddenly too close for comfort with Blaine. Luckily, Blaine laughs and moves in for the hug, and something tugs behind Sebastian’s ribs when they break apart. Sebastian follows him to the door, and shamelessly checks out his ass. You know, for old time’s sake. A parting gift.

Blaine puts a hand on the doorknob, but turns around before opening it. He opens and closes his mouth to find words, then drops his head and laughs under his breath. “I’m really happy for you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest. “What for?”

“You really took a new leaf to heart, I guess. That’s not something you see every day.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Well, I’d hope I’ve changed in a few years. I was just tired of it, honestly. Don’t flatter yourself too much, it wasn’t all because of you.”

Blaine sucks in a breath and looks back up at him with a small smile. There’s something in it that Sebastian can’t decipher—he’s always been shit at reading people—and he rests a gentle hand on the side of Sebastian’s arm.

“I’m serious, Bas. I needed tonight.”

Sebastian feels a familiar sly grin slot itself into place. “Text me when you get home safe, Killer. We have new New York memories to make.”

When the door closes behind Blaine, Sebastian lets out a sigh at the ceiling, and shakes his hands to try and force out the nervous energy that way.

He dreams of Blaine’s hands.

•••

Winter comes early, and with a vengeance. Sebastian goes home for the break, his mother and sister fly up from France, and they have an otherwise uneventful month together before they all have to part their ways. Curtis proposes to Gabrielle on Christmas morning, and the whole family, including Sebastian’s mother, uses it as an excuse to get day drunk in celebration. Sebastian spends most of his time catching up with his sister, and Ella holds it against him when he sheds a few tears as they all part ways in the airport.

He and Blaine still don’t see much of each other, but they’ve started chatting quite a bit. Radio silence from either one of them is pretty normal—and then Blaine will send some picture for an outfit opinion, or Sebastian will get bored and ask for help on homework that he doesn’t really need. Any crush Sebastian might still harbor for Blaine gets pushed to the backburner for a while, and their friendship feels healthy. It’s been a long time since Sebastian’s had one of those.

They’ve been quiet on FaceTime for a while, both of them doing their own things. It’s become a sort of routine with them, at least when Blaine calls Sebastian up when he has the free time. Neither of them can expect the other to drop everything when a call comes—Sebastian’s gotten to the point that, unless there’s a text that follows the call, he knows it’s just something Blaine wanted to say before he forgot. This was one of those times, where Blaine called to suggest some open auditions for an off-broadway show that he saw on the way home, but that was at least an hour ago. When Sebastian glances from his work over to Blaine, Blaine’s deep in thought, staring at the mug between his hands.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was...so close to coming back to Dalton, did you know that?” 

It takes Sebastian off-guard, and he laughs softly. “How would I have known that?”

“Right.” Blaine swirls whatever contents of his mug around, still thinking. “Kurt and I...hit a pretty rough spot for a while. We’d broken up a few weeks earlier because I felt that he was just...moving on in New York without me. Like us being together for the rest of our lives wasn’t in the cards for him anymore.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

Blaine laughs, but this time it’s a little sad. “Yeah, guess I wasn’t.”

They’re silent for a few more moments, and Sebastian watches as Blaine sets his mug aside.

“How blunt with you can I be right now?”

Blaine purses his lips. “Very.”

Sebastian smiles. “I’ve thought about this a lot, how queer kids are taught _so_ often that the first, other queer person they meet is the love of their life. Real life doesn’t work like that, you know? I mean, it _can_ work like that, but more often than not it doesn’t. It’s fine for you and Kurt to not be soulmates. You deserve better than to settle for the first gay dude who shows interest in you.”

Blaine shrugs. “That guy at the Gap liked me.”

“He was a closet case,” Sebastian chuckles.

“What about you?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “What _about_ me?”

Blaine grins. “You obviously liked me.”

His shoulders relax a bit. “You must’ve mistaken me with somebody else.”

Blaine laughs on the other end, and Sebastian watches him fondly. Blaine seriously is just wandering around the world, everyone handing him things on a silver platter, simply because they all like him so much. There’s just something about Blaine Anderson.

“Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had transferred back,” Blaine finally says.

“Well, for starters, you would’ve been graced with my presence,” Sebastian says, pretending to flick his hair back, and Blaine laughs so hard he snorts.

“Besides, I thought I told you to stop thinking so much about high school,” Sebastian continues, “there’s so much ahead of you. It’s not worth your brainpower.”

“I don’t think about it that much!” Blaine exclaims, and Sebastian shoots him a look, so he backtracks. “I keep in touch with them, I feel like I _have_ to think about it. But I have college friends, okay, jeez.”

“Sure you do.”

Blaine’s phone dings with a notification, and his camera turns off for a few moments as he replies. Sebastian looks down at his homework and realizes he’s really only finished about half of the stuff he needs to do for his courses tomorrow. 

“Speaking of friends,” Blaine says before his camera comes back on, “they’re going out on Thursday night, and I super don’t want to go, do you want to hang out?”

“You know that only makes me think you don’t have friends _more_ , right?” Sebastian teases, and Blaine juts his bottom lip out.

“Please? I like being a human on Friday. I have things to do, people to see. Being incapacitated by a hangover is less than ideal, and they’ll drag me out if I don’t have an excuse.”

Sebastian chuckles and tells him sure, but his mind is racing to try and examine the implications of them getting together on Thursday. 

“You wanna come down here? I can show you the ol’ stomping ground, I’ve found some pretty cool places.”

“If any of them are in Bushwick—”

“Not a single one, I promise,” Blaine says, hands up in defense.

“Sounds great. I should go, I’ve got some readings to catch up on.”

“How do you feel about karaoke?”

Sebastian smiles at Blaine, who is wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously. “Good _bye_ , Blaine.”

Blaine waves as Sebastian hangs up.

The city is still dulled by the season’s effects, dirty piles of snow on every street corner, the streets forever wet and slippery. Sebastian never particularly liked winter, and he certainly doesn’t like it in the city. He doesn’t like being freezing cold and having to layer up just to walk down the street, and while Spring brings with it some terrible allergies, he’d much rather have that.

Sebastian tucks his face further into his scarf as he jogs up the steps out of the subway station, trying to do some quick math on where Blaine said his new apartment was. He wasn’t thrilled when he learned that Blaine lived alongside Sam and Mercedes. Sam was a little late to the anti-Warbler train compared to the rest of Blaine’s high school friends, but as far as Sebastian can tell, he and Blaine are very good friends, unrequited crush aside. Mercedes he could go either way on, and he assumes the feeling is mutual.

Luckily, though, Blaine is waiting for him in front of the steps as Sebastian walks up, and the man raises an arm to wave. He’s nearly bouncing on his toes—he remembers vaguely that winter was always Blaine’s favorite, and even after the holiday season, Sebastian’s amazed that he isn’t completely sick of it by now.

“Wherever we’re going better be close by,” Sebastian mutters, and Blaine laughs.

“You’re such a grinch.”

“Christmas was two months ago, Blaine, we’re well past grinch references.”

Sebastian shoves his hands further into his coat pockets, and Blaine practically punches his hand through the gap between Sebastian’s arm and waist in order to lock their arms together. He notes in the back of his mind that Blaine’s love language is probably physical touch.

The walk to the karaoke bar doesn’t take too long, thankfully, and Sebastian is relieved to shed his layers in the warmth of a bar. It’s not sticky or damp like the bars Sebastian typically dips into for a night on the town; the atmosphere is very much exactly what he thinks Blaine would enjoy. Everything that isn’t the karaoke stage is a deep wood color, the tables are nearly full of groups all chatting mindlessly with each other. The bartender even recognizes Blaine when they walk in, and starts making a drink. Blaine looks over his shoulder with a toothy smile.

“What do you want?”

“Beer’s fine.” Blaine looks disappointed with Sebastian’s choice and, on their way to a booth along the opposite wall, talks about all the different, seasonal drinks the bar has to offer. Sebastian has to place a hand on Blaine’s side to steer him away from walking straight into someone, to which Blaine laughs sheepishly.

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re not even going to try something nice while you’re here.”

Sebastian smiles and drops his hand. “I’ll let you order for me, if you want.”

Blaine immediately starts flipping through the book full of song selections, and Sebastian leans in to look upside-down along with him. Blaine looks up to grin, and Sebastian’s very aware at how close their faces are.

“What’s your stance on ABBA?”

Sebastian scoffs. “I can’t believe you even have to ask me.”

Blaine slams the book closed suddenly and slides it back towards the end of the table. There’s something mischievous in his eyes, and Sebastian knows he just signed himself up for the duet of a lifetime. Blaine stands up, gives Sebastian a wink, and heads towards whoever is in charge of setting up the performances. Sebastian watches him go, a little less innocently than he probably should from one friend to another.

When Blaine comes back, he’s holding a round of shots for the two of them. “I figured I should sweeten the deal a little bit.”

“You certainly know the way to my heart,” Sebastian laughs, and raises his glass to Blaine. Blaine clinks his with Sebastian’s, they both tap the shots on the table, and toss them back. Blaine’s nose wrinkles, and Sebastian thinks its absolutely adorable.

“Never gets easier.”

“Some may say the same about you.”

Blaine’s mouth drops open in a scandalized gasp, and he kicks at Sebastian’s shin underneath the table.

A very drunk couple take the stage first, the two of them struggling to sing “I Will Always Love You” which is neither a duet nor a good karaoke song for the public eye. Blaine spends most of the rest of the performances talking about that one, and Sebastian lets him. Right up until the announcer heads to the stage and starts asking around for the two of them. Blaine slides out of the booth and hops up, Sebastian putting on his best angry glare. 

“Come _on_ , don’t be a dick,” Blaine says, and he grabs Sebastian’s hand to yank him up. “I know that’s impossible for you.”

“Wow,” Sebastian laughs. He might’ve underestimated this new Blaine.

Blaine’s quick to take the stage, and Sebastian steps up alongside him as the beginning licks of “Why Did It Have To Be Me?” by ABBA starts playing. The other leans up to whisper into Sebastian’s ear.

“You’re the woman.”

Sebastian purses his lips as Blaine pulls back to start singing.

 _When you were lonely, you needed a man_  
_Someone to lean on, well I understand_ _  
_ It's only natural, but why did it have to be me?

As he sings, and throughout the rest of the song, Blaine’s more or less dancing around the stage, not paying any mind to the screen at all. Sebastian doesn’t have the same luxury, and has to glance at the TV every so often, so he’s a bit stiff around the edges. Blaine takes this as a personal affront to him and, during one of Sebastian’s verses, sets his microphone down and sneaks behind the taller man. Before Sebastian knows it, Blaine’s hands are on his waist, forcing him to sway back and forth to the beat. Sebastian’s lines are interrupted by his own laughter, and when Blaine stops to come grab his microphone to finish the song, he gives Sebastian a wink and leans toward him as it ends.

Sebastian rolls his eyes as he sets the microphone back into the stand. Blaine tries to say something to him, but the bar is in full swing and playing another song as they wait for the two of them to get off the stage, so Sebastian ducks his head to let Blaine talk in his ear.

Blaine rests a hand on Sebastian’s waist, and says with a laugh, “Your voice gave me chills.”

Sebastian, for the first time in a long time, is speechless as he pulls back to give Blaine an incredulous look. Blaine raises his eyebrows ever so slightly, something in his eyes that Sebastian can’t read, as he pushes Sebastian towards the stairs off the stage. 

If Sebastian stops looking for two seconds, Blaine disappears off to somewhere else in the bar, which is exactly what happens as he takes his seat back at their booth. His eyes sweep the bar, curious to figure out why Blaine just said something like that and immediately dipped, but Blaine is bringing a ridiculous-looking drink over before Sebastian gets too worried. 

“I owed you,” Blaine says in lieu of a proper explanation as he sits and places the drink in front of Sebastian.

“It also looks like you’re trying to get me drunk.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

The drink is overly sweet and not really his style, and when he makes a face to show it, Blaine kicks him again under the table. A few more people go up and try to woo the crowd with their various, typical karaoke choices, and Blaine gets swept into them pretty quickly. Sebastian is more amused by Blaine’s reactions than anything else, and every time Blaine catches him laughing at his expense, he gets an eye roll right back. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Sebastian asks during a lull in the music.

Blaine puts on his best thinking face. “I don’t know, I think it takes a little more than a duet to get me into bed.”

Sebastian leans back and folds his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

“I’m not some kind of floozy.”

Sebastian raises his eyebrows in questioning. “Floozy? What is this, 1902?”

“Alright, you win,” Blaine laughs. Sebastian watches as he eyes the finished drink for a few seconds, clearly debating something, before leaning over the table to pluck the cherry from on top of the ice. He pops it into his mouth, rips the stem out between his teeth, and licks his thumb, all without losing eye contact with Sebastian. It feels like a challenge, Sebastian’s eyes flick down to Blaine’s lips before he can help himself, and Blaine slips out of the booth.

Sebastian finds his voice before asking, “Mine or yours?”

“Yours, please,” Blaine says, crinkling his nose. “Mercedes and Sam have been left alone for a few hours, and I’d like to give them the space to do...whatever it is they do.”

“I can’t blame you.”

They make their way to the station and on the subway in relative silence, Blaine’s arm once more looped through Sebastian’s shoved in his pockets. This time it feels more like it’s keeping Blaine from drifting off sideways, which is apparently something he tends to do when he’s even a little bit drunk. Sebastian suggests the porch as they enter his apartment, and Blaine sheds his jacket onto the back of the couch as he makes his way towards a door he doesn’t know how to open. Sebastian smiles fondly as he goes over to help.

Now, Blaine sits in the chair across from Sebastian, lit up by the cheap string lights Sebastian purchased on a whim. The two of them are quiet for a long while, but it doesn’t bother Sebastian. It’s a comfort that Sebastian’s never really known, still warmed by the alcohol despite the chill outside. Blaine tips his head back and closes his eyes with a soft sigh. Sebastian lets himself stare; his eyes trace his eyelashes resting gently on the tops of his cheeks, the gentle slope of his nose, the trace of a smile still on his lips, the shadows from the lights painting him in a silver light that washes over him in little spots.

He thinks, briefly, about their friendship in high school. It was _real_ to him, not just some long winded scheme or a villainous plot to win Regionals (it started that way, sure, but it turned into its own, separate thing, until the two plots collided again). Their friendship _meant_ something then, and it means something now. After all that time. Nobody is in their way this time around, and that hope that he’d forgotten about so many years ago flickers again in between his ribs.

“I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed since I moved,” Blaine mumbles.

Sebastian’s smile comes easily. “That’s the liquor talking.”

Blaine’s head rolls to the side as his eyes open, and Sebastian doesn’t try to hide he’s been looking. The slight smile on Blaine’s face grows. “For a while after he broke off the engagement, I didn’t know if I’d ever be happy again.”

Sebastian scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the sky. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“I just...thought we were soulmates. And when that wasn’t true, I was so _lost_.”

“You should’ve heard yourself on the phone.” Sebastian smiles at the sky. “You described it like...like the _world_ was going to end. But at the end of the day? The sun set, the sun rose, and you were still there in the morning.”

When Blaine doesn’t answer for a while, Sebastian turns to look at him, expecting the other to have fallen asleep mid-conversation or something. Instead, he turns and Blaine’s expression is soft, unguarded, mouth open in the same slight smile. Sebastian can’t bear to look away.

“I didn’t know you were so poetic,” Blaine teases, and Sebastian mimics the slight smile.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Well, maybe I should start learning.”

Sebastian feels like he’s going to say something stupid. Something about how he never thought they’d be here, or something cheesy about high school, or something else that he hasn’t even thought of yet. Instead, he lets them lapse back into silence. When he turns to check back in on Blaine, he’s got his head rested in his hand and his eyes shut. Sebastian smiles to himself and pushes himself out of his chair, tapping Blaine on the forehead a few times until he stirs and slaps Sebastian’s hand away.

“You can take the couch if you want,” Sebastian mumbles, trying not to laugh as Blaine stretches his arms over his head and yawns.

“Probably a good idea.”

He stands, Sebastian holding the door open for him. “Don’t want you sleeping with the homeless on the subway.”

Blaine plops himself on the couch once inside, and Sebastian points at him as he goes towards the bedroom. “Don’t fall asleep yet, I’m giving you pajamas.”

“Aye aye,” Blaine calls back. Sebastian makes quick work of finding a random shirt and some sweatpants that will almost definitely swallow Blaine whole. He smiles at the image and heads back out, where Blaine is, as promised, not asleep but fussing with the pillows to make himself comfortable. Sebastian chucks the clothes at his head, and Blaine makes a surprised noise.

“You know where the bathroom is, if you feel like washing out the helmet of gel before you sleep. I don’t know what you do.”

Blaine stands and directs a pointed glare at Sebastian. “I toned it back, alright.”

“I could tell,” Sebastian laughs. “It looks good.”

Blaine waves a hand dismissively and heads to the bathroom. Sebastian watches him leave, and then retreats to his own bedroom. 

He doesn’t remember his dream in the morning, but he’s almost positive it was about Blaine, because he can never catch a break. When he rolls himself out of bed and into the kitchen, Blaine is cooking _something_ on his stove. Sebastian leans on the counter next to him, and Blaine jumps out of his skin.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he breathes, and Sebastian chuckles.

“Sebastian, but we get confused a lot,” he jokes, and Blaine swats at him with a towel.

“You look like the ghost of a drowned child,” Sebastian continues as he starts making himself coffee, and Blaine flips him off without looking.

“I can’t help that you’re a giant with giant clothes.”

Sebastian hums and shamelessly checks Blaine out. The shirt hangs a bit to one side, exposing a bit of shoulder that Sebastian has the weird urge to tuck his nose into. The sweats appear to be tight enough, but bunched up a lot at the ankles.

“You know, I could get used to this. Waking up to a sexy man, in my clothes, making me breakfast.”

Blaine grins down at the pan, which upon further inspection, he’s making a bunch of eggs in. “I thought you don’t date.”

Sebastian hums, picks up his coffee from underneath the machine, busies himself with pouring in milk and stirring it. Blaine seems to be done with the eggs, because he takes them off the heat in the meantime.

“Who said anything about dating?” Sebastian finally says, back against the counter, and Blaine immediately looks flustered.

“Well I—I assumed, after everything you told me—”

Sebastian shrugs. “Never found the right person.”

“Right,” Blaine mutters under his breath, moving to pour the eggs onto both plates that have already been set out.

“What’s that supposed to mean, hm?” Sebastian asks, moving to stay at Blaine’s side.

“You’re just,” Blaine waves a hand vaguely, “you’re so out there.”

“Feels like I’ve heard that from you before.”

Blaine turns and knocks into Sebastian, nearly toppling one of the plates of eggs as he goes. Sebastian catches him by the waist, and Blaine takes a moment to set the plate down properly. Sebastian doesn’t let go, and Blaine doesn’t do anything to move away. In fact, he smiles up at the taller, bottom lip between his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Blaine’s eyes flick between both of Sebastian’s for a quiet moment. Sebastian does the same, searching for something that even he doesn’t really know the name of. And then, before he can reconsider, he dips his head to kiss Blaine. Blaine doesn’t even flinch under him, and Sebastian can feel a hand twist its way into the front of his shirt. He kisses exactly how Sebastian figured he would—cautiously, but passionate nonetheless. It’s a little off-center, a little less than perfect, but Blaine leans up into it, and Sebastian’s in awe at how _giving_ Blaine is, follows his lead blindly.

Sebastian’s the one to pull back, a small smile on his face as he opens his eyes and looks at Blaine. “Sorry,” he echoes.

Blaine shakes his head and, as he surges forward to catch Sebastian’s lips in a kiss again, whispers, “Don’t be.”

This time the kiss is a little more centered, a little more perfect—Sebastian slides a hand to cup Blaine’s jaw, and he can feel Blaine smile into the kiss. Blaine gasps when Sebastian takes a moment to swipe his tongue across his bottom lip, and he pulls away with a smirk.

“There’s something else I should tell you.” Blaine looks terrified for a moment, and Sebastian moves impossibly closer to whisper, “I don’t like eggs that much.”

Blaine shoves him back using the hand in his shirt, and Sebastian nearly doubles over in laughter as Blaine goes back to finishing up breakfast.

“You’re an asshole,” Blaine grumbles, but he’s smiling despite it. Sebastian presses a kiss to Blaine’s temple, still shaking with the remnants of laughter.

“You like it.”

•••

_Coda._

They're about to go to sleep, Sebastian's nearly dozed off, when Blaine slides a hand around his waist. Sebastian grumbles, Blaine chuckles in response, and presses his face into Sebastian's shoulder blade.

"What's one thing I still don't know about you?" he whispers, and Sebastian can feel his smile against his skin.

"I was about to fall asleep."

Blaine pokes a finger onto Sebastian's stomach. "Come on. I'll go first. I...once started crying because I learned that the Mars rover, Curiosity, sang happy birthday to itself every year."

Sebastian starts rolling onto his back, which Blaine happily adjusts to rest his head on his chest, right over his heart, looking up at Sebastian's face in the dark. "That is really good."

"Your turn."

Sebastian starts picking at Blaine's curls as he thinks, and Blaine, like a dog, leans his head into it. "Hmm. Okay. I am...ridiculously susceptible to the hiccups."

"What?"

"I'm serious, it's a problem. I'm positive I get them more often than the average person."

"I've definitely _seen_ you with the hiccups," Blaine mutters, reaching a hand up to push Sebastian's hair off his forehead. "We should test that."

"Can I go to sleep now?"

Blaine turns his head to drop a kiss to the skin of his chest, just below his nipple, as Sebastian wraps his left arm around Blaine's back to press him close.

"You may sleep, Your Highness."

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxT5VTuBM_U  
> "Change In My Life" by Hanson, by a real a capella group: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTvIAUiwaHo


End file.
